Like Cats and Dogs
by Chaos-Rose
Summary: Severus Snape and Sirius Black resume their old rivalry and contrive an utter debacle. Ch. 15: Lucius 'Brings It.' Remus encounters a complication. Narcissa puts her thing down. Albus puts his thing down. Severus puts his thing down, and makes a point.
1. Like Cats and Dogs: Chapter 1

Title: Like Cats and Dogs

Author: Chaos Rose

E-mail: Lady_Rosa_Chaotica@yahoo.com

Rating: PG for now, later chapters will be R.

Category: Humor

Summary: Severus Snape and Sirius Black in pursuit of their twenty-year-long grudge make the Weasley twins look like little angels.

Disclaimer: I'm playing in Ms. Rowling's sandbox. 

Author's Note:

Yes, I am still working on my TPM AU, Some Other Future's Past. I just have to start wrapping the plot lines and it's tricky to do when things are hectic. If anyone really wants a sequel to either To Ensnare the Senses or Through the Longest Watches of the Night, please let me know? 

~

Like Cats and Dogs

~

It was, perhaps, not the best of days.

"--- GROWN MEN! WHAT IS IT ABOUT YOU TWO?! --- IN ALL MY YEARS --- DON'T YOU MUTTER AT ME, SIRIUS BLACK! --- WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY, SEVERUS SNAPE?! --- ALBUS WOULD JUST BE APPALLED ---"

The grown men in question had given up all attempts at justification, self-defense or blame distribution, and now stood with heads bowed before the fury of Minerva McGonagall. That severe and still-intimidating woman stood behind her desk and handed them a reaming the likes of which they had not experienced since the days the had been her pupils.

The volume decreased and both men dared a glance at the Professor - who now stood with arms crossed, giving them a glare that should have blistered the parts her tirade had missed.

"Now, Master Black, perhaps you can tell me what exactly you did to Master Snape's chair to give it such a nasty disposition?"

Sirius lifted his eyes to look somewhere just past Minerva's left ear. "What makes you think that I did any such thing, Professor?" 

"Severus, open your mouth one more time and so help me, I'll belt it shut for you!" The tip of the professor's wand hovered a centimeter from his nose to punctuate the threat as she pointed her finger at Black. "Because, Master Black, I do not believe that Severus would spell his own chair to bite him in the arse!"

The day had begun with a bloodcurdling scream from the faculty lounge. 

Professor McGonagall had sat in Snape's reading chair simply to button her boot when the chair - normally a very well-behaved and comfortable Winchester - had sunk very sharp teeth into her fundament. 

After a visit to Poppy Pomfrey, the professor went directly to Remus Lupin. 

Lupin, fifteen minutes later and with ears burning, went to find a black dog named 'Snuffles.' 

The dog - a large black Newfoundland who had been dozing in the courtyard - walked dejectedly and with tail down to McGonagall's office.

Snape had been indulging himself in his normal Saturday morning lie-in when Minerva McGonagall had invaded his rooms. She literally ripped the bedclothes from his nude body, snapping, "You. My office. Now." 

She then pivoted on one heel and marched from the room, even as he trying to form some sort of coherent response.

The dog and the man met in the corridor outside their formidable superior's office, Snape tapped politely on the door, and both waited a very long time.

When the door had finally opened, Severus had been reciting _cantos_ from Dante's _Inferno_, feeling them appropriate. Now, the legendary place of punishment seemed to have located itself to a scroll-stuffed office where both men had been for half an hour – and a thousand years. She had taken their wands, cast a _priori incatatum_ over both and then exploded like the mother of all Howlers. 

Both men had apparently been hexing, jinxing, and cursing each other an average of three times a week. That was leaving out Severus' potion that had – on contact of Sirius' soap with his bathwater – turned that man a vivid shade of orange from the neck down. 

"I don't understand why when there are matters of the utmost importance to which we must attend, the pair of you persist in fighting your private little war! Now not even the furniture is safe!" Minerva's hands were clenched to fists, her white knuckles resting on the blotter. "Both of you have been at this silly grudge for long enough – how are we supposed to present a resistance when two of our number fight like cats and dogs? Now, get out my sight and come back when you have more maturity that a pair of second-years."

Both men were out of her office so quickly that they might have Appartated. 

With a heavy sigh, she sat carefully in her chair, wincing slightly at the stinging itch of healing flesh. Severus and Sirius – as much as they hated each other – were much alike. Both men were brilliant, both obsessive as well as vengeful, and very creative.

All Minerva could do was hope that the major explosion would occur before the students came back - and that Hogwarts would still be standing afterward.

~

The situations of Severus Snape and Sirius Black, once in the hallway, did not improve. 

Remus Lupin awaited them, his arms crossed on his thin chest and brows drawn into as severe a scowl as he could manage. "The pair of you! If I knew how to make it, I'd dump a Juvenating potion into your tea and let you both try to grow up all over again!" 

Severus scowled; it was not the first time he had landed in the shit over something that the bloody golden Gryffindors had done. It seemed to be his divinely ordained calling. 

"Don't blame me, Remus! If Whisp," Sirius hooked his thumb at Severus, whose scowl only deepened at hearing his long ago nick-name, "hadn't made my soup explode" 

"Then it would have been something else! Because it's always something else where your bloody egos are involved!" Remus' shout was startling enough that the bigger men stepped back. "You've had it in for each other for better than twenty years, now will you two PLEASE make some attempt to at least a pretense of adulthood!"

With that, he turned and stomped down the hall uttering curses and imprecations that should have struck both Severus and his nemesis blind, deaf and dumb. 

Severus blinked. Lupin rarely got that angry – he could count the number of times on one hand and have a finger left over. All the same, as much as he disliked Lupin, he'd leave a headache potion for him – with the way that vein had been standing out on his forehead, he'd have a blinding one before noon. 

Black glared at him and Severus felt his own reflexive sneer in response before Black stomped down the hall after Lupin.

It was just too bad that Remus Lupin could not stay angry to save his life. Black would be back in his good graces by sundown and the holding action between Severus and Sirius-Damn-Him would resume – albeit with a more covert mien. 

Severus decided to take the back stairs to his rooms, thinking that it was too bad that all the students were gone – with the mood he was in, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Hufflepuff would be doing well to have five points between them by Halloween. 

When Albus Dumbledore had said he would settle for a lack of overt hostility, he had – Severus thought – no idea what he was asking. Within a week, the war that had been suspended with Black's sentence to Azkaban had resumed - with Sirius setting a disorder spell in Severus' robes – buttons would not stay buttoned, cufflinks unlinked, and his underclothing misbehaved.

Severus slipped a retaliatory itch powder into Black's laundry and the battle was joined. 

Escalation of hostilities had been a given, culminating in the latest Incident. 

A simple potion coating the bowl of a spoon was activated by the heat and moisture of a bowl of onion soup and exploded right in Black's face. Severus nearly laughed himself sick at the sounds of Remus Lupin trying to calm a raving Sirius. 

Personally, Severus thought the exploding soup was a new low – and one of which he was quite proud. He'd have to patent it under his shell corporation, but the royalties should be considerable. 

The air cooled with each flight of stairs until he was once again in the torch-lit twilight of the dungeon's upper levels. This was his undisputed domain – his living quarters, workrooms, office, storerooms, and classroom took up the entire first level of dungeons in the Old Wing. Only Albus Dumbledore or Minerva McGonagall could move freely down here – he had set the wards to allow limited access to others. Students could not see most of what was here – indeed, some of the rooms contained substances so dangerous in raw form that simply opening a door the wrong way could result in new additions to the discarnate population of Hogwarts. 

A tight smile quirked his thin lips, thinking that there was one addition he'd like to see - but Albus would be most upset if Severus did anything to hasten Sirius Black's demise.

If only there was a way to get Black out of his territory without calling in the Dementors! He rubbed his forehead – he'd been frowning so hard that he's actually cramped the muscles. Black might be innocent of murder, but to Severus' way of thinking the man still had James Potter's blood on his hands. The life debt that Severus owed to James – even if James had been in on Sirius' homicidal joke – was not abated with death. By all the oldest laws, it was Severus' duty to avenge Potter's death and to protect James' heir. 

Something that – in Severus' opinion – would best be done by chaining Harry Potter to a dungeon wall and leaving him there. The boy was a menace. 

Entering his main workroom he called out, "Lumos!" and the sconces on the walls glowed with a heatless light. Cauldrons of different sizes and materials lined one wall, while another was all shelves lined with bottles, jars, and crocks of more common potion ingredients. Books, scrolls, and even carefully wrapped tablets filled a third wall – all of them containing knowledge too dangerous even for the Restricted Section of Hogwarts' library. Written in scripts that ranged from cuneiform and hieroglyphs to modern English with hand-bound pages, the least of these books would guarantee that one would have an auror marking each step and breath for the rest of one'slife, the worst of them would earn the owner a dementor's kiss.

The worktable that dominated the center of the room was topped in pure transparent quartz crystal, cut into a sheet three inches thick. A medium-sized silver cauldron bubbled atop it over a single white flame. The potion within sending thick roils of metallic-scented steam into the air – only when it started to smoke would it be time to put the lid on and remove it from the fire. The potion for Remus Lupin was nearly ready – only this could keep the man in his right mind during his transformation into a werewolf.

Severus divested himself of his outer robe, hanging it on a peg by the door before stalking to the deep, comfortable reading chair and ottoman along the fourth wall of his workroom. Resisting the urge to check if the cushions had developed any unusual dentition, he sprawled into the chair and thumped his feet on the hassock. His black brows knit themselves into a scowl as he gazed at his wall of books. 

If he could not sit here and think of ways to kill, harm, or royally piss off Sirius Black at least he could get in a little reading. Severus' eyes roamed the shelves, until a book in a red leather cover caught his eye - _Une Histoire des Choses Très Mauvaises._

"_Accio_ book."

The world faded away as Severus lost himself in the pages, smiling and occasionally outright laughing at a particular passage. As he turned another page, earnestly wishing for the chance to use some of this, his laughter cut off. An intent expression settled onto his features as he riveted his gaze to a particular passage.

Oh. This was just too good 

"_Accio_ quill! _Accio_ parchment!" Pulling the small octagonal side table to him, Severus balanced the book on his knees and commenced taking copious and detailed notes. Occasionally, he would lay book and notes aside to pull another book or scroll from the shelves and read from it or go to ascertain the availability of certain items in his stores. 

A grin - twisted to be sure, but still a grin – lit his pale face and made his eyes sparkle like black sapphires. He hadn't been in this good a mood since his seventh year - when he had dyed James Potter and half of Gryffindor a charming shade of Slytherin green right before the Quidditch match for the Cup. Even if he had been hammered into the ground by the Gryffindor beaters, it had been worth it.

Severus carefully laid out the equipment that he'd need and then pulled a set of keys from a hidden drawer in the worktable. Striding to the door, he pulled his robe from the hook, paused and then took a pair of Hebridean Black dragonhide gloves from a cabinet. Some of the elements needed for the work became volatile against human skin and could not be moved safely with magic. 

"Animagum Irretitus" He whispered to himself. "It's just bloody brilliant!"

~


	2. Like Cats and Dogs: Chapter 2

Dear Readers:

Here is the latest chapter, and I hope that it meets with your approval. Thanks for the reviews, as well. I love to hear what you are thinking! 

Sincerely,

Chaos

~

Like Cats and Dogs

Chapter 2

~

The library was cool and silent; no students disturbed the book dust suspended in golden light of the late summer sun. 

Sirius Black had come to the library more out of a need for refuge than anything else. Lupin was still furious with him and with Snape the Snake. It would take some time for the normally gentle man to get over his mad, and after sincere apologies over causing Remus distress - and less sincere apologies over his attack on Severus - Sirius had retreated for a time. 

Wandering the halls of Hogwarts was a surreal experience for him. Sometimes he could almost swear that James would be just around the next corner, dressed in his Quidditch robes and vowing that they'd hammer Slytherin into the pitch this time. Maybe Lupin would be walking along with Peter tagging at his heels, both of them talking about some fascinating new spell. Maybe Sirius could even run into himself, and remember what it was like to believe that the world could be now as it was then - safe, innocent, with no worries greater than planning the next Marauder's adventure. 

"But then I'd have to put up with seeing a lot more of Whisp than I do now." Sirius muttered. 

Severus hated that nickname almost as much as he hated Sirius - not only because Sirius had been the one to give it to him, but because it had stuck.

"Well, he was a little thing." Sirius muttered to the bust of Olaf the Odd. 

Indeed, eleven year-old Severus Snape had been 'no bigger than a whisper.' Sirius had teased the intense-looking, quiet boy the whole way up on the Hogwarts Express. By the time they had been sorted into their houses Severus Snape had been 'Whisper' Snape - later to be called 'Whisp' when he managed to get some height but could not manage to be anything but slender.  

A wry smile crossed Sirius' face as he remembered Whisp's reaction - Sirius had been hit with more hexes in his first month at the school than he at any point in his life before or since. Boils, rashes, itching in places that one could not scratch, rude gastric disturbances, acne that no amount of bubotuber pus could allay, and more - and it was only because James caught Snape in the act that Sirius ever knew. It was funny the things that you thought of so many years later. In fact Sirius remembered the initial battle in the war...

_"LET ME GO!" For a little thing, Severus had a set of lungs on him. Cornered between classes near the greenhouses by James, Sirius, Remus and Peter - the smaller boy had fought back viciously when the four had ambushed him._

_The situation had gone from bad to worse to completely out of control and they'd had to tie Whisp up in his own robes. With black eyes glittering dangerously, brows drawn into a tight scowl, and his nose dripping blood from an accidental encounter with Sirius' foot, the pint-sized dark wizard was literally vibrating with sheer fury. James and Remus held the smaller boy off the ground, Lupin with his lip puffed to the size of a sausage and James with an eye that was swelling shut under a purple-black bruise. Unmarked Peter kept a nervous lookout, while Sirius glared at the their defiant captive._

_"Happy to. Just remove the hex and you can slither off to your dungeons." James spoke sensibly. "If you'd been reasonable in the first place..."_

_The little punk then had the effrontery to sneer at them. "If I'd been reasonable? What about him?" The arrogant and lazy drawl that characterized the speech of so many pure-bloods was gone, replaced with a quick, snapping manner. _

_Sirius looked down at Severus - the act of doing so impaired by a massive, red, glaring zit right on the end of Sirius' nose._

_Remus spoke gently. "Be that as it may, Severus, he's not the one tossing hexes left and right."_

_"Try living with a nickname like 'Whisper' and then we'll talk." A thin slash appeared between the black eyebrows. "Until then, bugger off."_

_"We are talking, Whisp." Sirius advanced threateningly. "You're just not listening."_

_Severus seemed to draw in on himself and Sirius was forcibly reminded of Kali - his mother's feline familiar - just before she engaged in violent and destructive mayhem._

_"Come on now, Severus, take it off him." Lupin cajoled. "You've both been awful. If you both apologize and ignore each other -"_

_"It doesn't change a thing." Severus finished the sentence with jaw jutting stubbornly. "Now LET ME G-!"_

_Sirius slammed his right hand over Severus' mouth, cupping his left behind the boy's head. "What we have here, Whisper, you slimy little git, is a failure to communicate. I - YEEOW!"_

_Bright pain slammed up his arm as sharp teeth broke skin and he felt slick warmth in the palm of his hand. With a roar of outrage Sirius slammed his free hand into Severus' head. Remus dropped his grip on the boy to pull Sirius away, yelling that Sirius had lost his bloody mind and what was he doing? James' breath whooshed out of his body and then he was curled into a ball on the ground with hands cupped between his legs - dropped by a swing of a pale and oddly delicate-looking fist. Severus ran for freedom, blowing past Peter with a quick hex that pitched the plump boy face first into the mud._

_From out of control, the situation spun right into potential disaster. Sirius and Remus gave chase, stunned at how fast the agile little bastard could run. Soon, Remus - frail even then - dropped back, leaving Sirius to close the distance. _

_Sirius landed on Whisp, smashing the breath out of him and sending his wand skittering across the stone of the walkway. _

_All hell broke loose. The tiny, pale boy fought like a dragon, seemingly heedless of the damage he might sustain as long as he was landing some of it back on Sirius. Sirius wondered just what he'd gotten himself into; how had lightly-meant teasing blown into such a firestorm?_

_He could hear James and Remus coming closer, shouting unintelligibly and Peter screaming, "Sirius, RUN!"_

_Severus suddenly went very, very still. "Oh... no." The sheer dread in Severus' voice was enough to rivet Sirius' attention; he found himself looking at a pair of impeccably polished black oxfords attached to likewise impeccably tailored grey wool trousers. Eyes traveling farther up he found - much to his growing dismay - a prefect's badge pinned to the fine black robe. _

_And right next to the prefect's badge was the Slytherin House crest. _

_Though he knew whom it was standing over him, Sirius forced his gaze higher. Pale skin, shoulder length white-blond hair that girls would kill for and cold silver-grey eyes - all stacked up to equal Lucius Malfoy. _

_"Well." Malfoy's mouth lengthened into a smile as cold as his voice. "What have we here? A strapping Gryffindor beating the snot out of a much smaller Slytherin?" His eyes raised and swept over the three boys behind him. "Perhaps it would be a group effort? How very brave of you, Gryffindors, to attack such a threat!"_

_James spoke from behind Sirius, "I know what this looks like, but that's not how it is!"_

Malfoy had mended Snape's broken nose with a simple "Rescariossus." However, the hex the boy had placed on Sirius stood. Lucius pointed out that whatever the provocation, that four Gryffindors has assaulted a very small Slytherin and that Peter, Sirius, James and Remus were just bloody lucky that Professor McGonagall had not caught them - otherwise they'd be missing points and adding detention. 

In retrospect, Sirius thought glumly, they could have just wrapped Severus Snape up in ribbons and handed him to Voldemort. Lucius Malfoy had added Severus immediately to his little garden of followers – and if one listened to rumor, to his bed before Severus was legally of age. The whole little clique had made much of the dark arts prodigy in their midst. They praised the boy and encouraged him, showering him with attention and affection – given such a heady draught, the child Severus had been had never stood a chance. 

Severus' dorm mates boasted about him and his abilities to anyone who would listen. Harold Avery - a rank and sniveling coward - bragged about Severus hexing his feet back to front when Harold hit him with a water balloon. Evan Rosier - called 'Rosie,' to his everlasting dismay - was a dab hand with Charms and had often been Severus' partner in mayhem. Charles Wilkes could be counted on to aide, abet and offer airtight alibis. Abelard LeStrange, a scary character if ever there was one, often acted as bodyguard and all-purpose muscle.

Every last one of them became a Death Eater. Rosier and Wilkes were dead, LeStrange in Azbakan, Avery was hiding under a desk at the Ministry and Severus had apparently turned spy for Dumbledore at some point - for what reason, Albus refused to say.

Sirius prowled the stacks restlessly. He wanted to put aside his feud with Whisp, as Albus Dumbledore had asked, but found the old enmity seeping to the surface no matter how he tried to keep it down. McGonagall was right; no matter what had happened or how much time had passed, Sirius and Severus fought like cats and dogs – they always had.

Yes, Sirius wished wholeheartedly for a return to that innocent time, where all they had to worry about was losing house points and detention. Why was it that youth always seemed like a peculiar type of torment when one was young and a golden age when one was older? 

With a shake of his head for the vagaries of time, Sirius turned his attention to the stacks. If he had to lie low for a bit, at least he could do it in a well-stocked library. He smiled as he saw a familiar title, '_A History of the Animagus in Modern Times_,' which had given him and James the idea to attempt the transformation in the first place. The book was as heavy as he remembered when he pulled it off the shelf, and was easily as thick as Sirius' hand was wide. 

Something made Sirius stop short and peer into the stack. Being on the run had honed his instinct for the out of place and there was something definitely out of place. 

A small triangle of green was poking up out of a space between the ancient oak of the shelf and the stone of the wall. Carefully – for some books had some very vigorous protection spells on them – he reached into the space with a finger and brushed the object. 

Nothing.

Carefully, Sirius grasped the triangle with his thumb and forefinger, teasing it out of its hiding place. 

It was a small book, and very old, no doubt about that; but though the green leather cover was cracked and dry, the silver embossing tarnished, the title was perfectly readable.

_"A Historie of Very Bad Thinges – A Compendium and Commentaries Upon All Manner of Dirty Trickes, by Geoffrey Archimedes Ladywell,"_ Sirius murmured and opened a page at random.

'... and thenn did Gwynn waxe wroth and hurl a visious hex at the Dutchman, instantly transposing his haire for his bottockes.'

Well. 

Sirius repaired to a far corner of the library with his books. Settling in a corner, he slipped the small green book into the massive history book and began  to read. Some entries prompted smiles, others snickers and snorts, but a few of the chronicles made him bite his lips to keep in outright belly laughs. Oh, just for a chance to use some of this! 

The sun changed its angle, moving from morning to afternoon as Sirius read. His demeanor changing as he began to page back and forth within the book. 

"Thee Spelle of Revealation is one that maye be used to ascertaine thy Opponent's Animagus Forme. Even if the Talent is dormant, you shall know theyr shape, and with the Enchantemente of _Converto Animagus Preoccupo_ ye maye..."

Boomslang skin, three hairs from the head of one's opponent, silver, graphorn hide... Sirius found himself wriggling in a most canine anticipation. Oh, this was too good to pass up!


	3. Like Cats and Dogs: Chapter 3

Gentle Readers:

Thanks for your comments and reviews both on FF.net and in private. I treasure all of them! J

The story has taken a turn into slashier waters, with RL/SB semigratuitous FF.net-approved R-rated SensuSmut. Severus will not be neglected, though, that much I promise! More mayhem to come!

Also, for those who have asked-

Yes, there will be a follow-up to 'The Warming Potion Incident' and also to 'Through the Longest Watches of the Night. Emily and Artemisia will return to torment their Potions professor, as well as meet the 'real world' as Aquisitors. I'm very glad that they were received so well!

Now, on with the tale…

Sincerely,

Chaos

P.S. This is the 'yes, nanny' version of this chapter. For those of you who are looking for the Scarlet version… Well, where are the forbidden books found?

~

Like Cats and Dogs

Chapter 3

~

The hour was late when Sirius finally pawed at the door to the rooms he shared with Remus. He'd been absorbed in finding the materials for the charm and then secreting them in a classroom so long disused that the most recent footprints on the floor held a centimeter of dust. 

The boomslang skin had been ridiculously easy to pilfer from Snape's stores. The wards around the office and cabinet had been down for some reason and all Sirius needed was a thin strip. The graphorn hide was commonly used in charms and potions – the two strips required for the spell had been easy to cull from trimmings left by the Advanced students. Silver – likewise a common magical fixative – came in the form of two Sickles, which he could melt in a borrowed crucible. Now all he needed was three of Snape's hairs and...

Remus opened the door in his pyjama pants and let Sirius into the rooms. To Sirius he smelled of light, healthy sweat that carried a great deal of information. General health, emotional status, sexual disposition, last meal and even the pull of the moon on Remus' wolf-self were all conveyed for canine-Sirius to sort with his fine nose. As of now, Moony smelled lightly of one of Snape's gallingly effective headache potions and the Wolfsbane potion. There was the slightly musky wolf-scent that the advent of the half moon always brought out, accentuating the heady scent of human male pheromone. It was everything that Sirius could manage not to bury his nose in Remus' crotch and…

Remus' nose twitched slightly – even in human form his hearing and olfactory responses were far above human normal - and his scent mixed amusement and a fast-fading irritation. Sirius lowered his head and pawed at the floor, tail wagging and tongue lolling from his mouth – a posture calculated to be disarming and endearing.

"You, Padfoot, are just impossible." Despite the frown on his friend's face, here was an encouraging hint of laughter in that scolding sentence. 

Falling over with a thud, Sirius landed on the carpet with his tail whapping. Drawing his forelegs up, he gave Remus his very best 'rub my belly?' pleading look. 

"Don't think that you're going to get off the hook with me so easily, Sirius," Moony scolded. "You and Severus need to settle your differences. Whatever it is that you're plotting, you'd better rethink it."

With his best repentant whine, Sirius rolled to his back, counting on his canine-self to say what his human-self had trouble with putting to words.

"Oh, all right, but you'd better behave yourself. Minerva was angry enough to use your full name this morning when she came looking for you." Remus gathered his robes as he knelt and worked his fingers into Sirius' thick black fur. "I had no idea that your middle name was Summanus."

Sirius snorted, even as his back left leg began to dig wildly in the air in response to Remus' fingers. Good lord! Moony knew every spot… 

From dog to human, the change was almost instantaneous. Sirius tumbled Remus to the carpet with him, wrapping the smaller, slender man in his arms, savoring the feel of a warm body against his. In the mind-sucking hell of Azkaban he had forgotten how good it could be to hold, to be held, to kiss and touch. Sex was simply a wonderful desert after a nourishing meal – that it was with another man bothered Sirius not a bit. 

The lips under his were soft and the mouth sweet, but firmer than a woman's. The kisses were as ardent, but different. The muscles, the angular body, the strength of arms and chest were more arousing than he could have ever imagined. Even better, it was Remus, someone who knew what it was like to be alone and shunned, who knew pain and anguish, who loved so deeply and without reservation. Tongues fought back and forth from mouth to mouth and at one point he was sure Remus was growling. 

Slipping his hands under Sirius' robes, Remus did indeed growl and bite softly at Sirius' lips as he undid the clasps, peeling Sirius free of his clothes. The waxing moon tended to make the normally mild man more aggressive as it grew fatter in the night sky.

The soft growling faded as Moony chuckled, "Norton Motorcycle trolleys?" His fingertips traced the boundaries of the fabric and he pressed a wet kiss over a spot on Sirius' neck that made the tall man catch his breath.

"You certainly are talkative for a man who's overdressed for the occasion!" he retorted. In three quick movements, Moony was in his birthday suit and the pyjama bottoms landed somewhere behind the couch. 

This provoked a wrestling match that ended with Sirius' legs tangled in his own shorts - whilst Remus' fingers and mouth did things that made Sirius moan non sequiturs like 'unfair' and 'there right there!' There wasn't enough oxygen in the air and Sirius' skin was burning for every wet touch of that hungry pink mouth. 

And touch it did. 

And lick.

And nipnibblebnibblenip… ahh! BITE!

"Moony!" Sirius yipped, opened his eyes and stared into his lover's golden gaze. "Do that again and I'll be having a few words with Snape about his tinkering with that potion."

Remus trailed kisses up Sirius' sternum and nuzzled his jaw, his arousal burning against Sirius' abdomen. "What? You think that he has to _do anything to make me this hard for you? Then again, that man's pheromones have always been a war zone…"_

Now Sirius was the one growling as he flipped their position, pinning Remus to the floor and inflicting the same sensual torture on him. What was he thinking, sniffing Snape?! That would never do and he was going to drive the thought right out of Moony's head! Sirius set to with a will and soon Remus was gasping for air, muscles thrumming and back arched off the floor. Moans, disconnected words, growls and soft wolfish whines washed into Sirus' ears, bathing him in heat. With his fingers and tongue, Sirius applied a very specific torture to a very sensitive part of Remus and was rewarded with a low wail of, "now, oh lord now please now dammit!"

Looking up the flat plain of Remus' belly and chest, Sirius grinned. That would teach him! And Sirius would teach him as often as necessary if it was going to be this much fun!

_"Entruphemagos," _Sirius whispered, nestling himself against what Remus was so enthusiastically offering, and then, "Moony… oh… yesssssss…!"

There was only moonlight to witness the intimacy of entwined bodies, only the stones heard the ragged breaths and stifled exclamations of passion. Lost in ardor, the two men fit their bodies together over and over again, each begging the other for more and that and there and now! Pleasure hung like the top of some magnificent wave, suspending both men in glassy green ecstasy before then cresting and crashing over and through them.

It was some time before either man could move, much less string syllables - so instead they sprawled together, bodies humming with the aftermath of orgasm.

"Sirius?"

"Hmm, Moony?"

"Why have we never done this in a bed?"

~

The hour was late. Indeed, it was nearly two in the morning when Severus looked up from his current project and realized that he was very hungry. The Animagum Irretitus was a transdisciplinary work, involving potions, alchemy, transfiguration, and charms. In his desire to have uninterrupted work time, he had delivered Lupin's Wolfsbane to that man's rooms, cauldron and all, along with a month's worth of headache powder – living with Sirius Black had to be good for at least one a day. 

He considered a quick trip by the school Floo network to the kitchens, but that might be hazardous. Severus wasn't sure what fireplaces were in use and which had been disconnected for the summer and if they were going to remain disconnected until the first day of the new school year.

He'd have to actually go out. Blast.

It was unlikely that he'd meet anyone at this hour of the morning, and that alone was enough to get him out the door. However, his persona did not permit his being seen in an old Slytherin green cotton sweater and worn trousers – so just to be sure that he remained unseen, he slipped from shadow to shadow like a cat until he could tickle the pear. 

The house elves were typically eager to shove all sorts of delicacies at him. Severus wound up making his return trip with a sack of the house elves' best efforts over one shoulder while munching contentedly on a pasty.

Lucius always claimed that Severus was oblivious to the world when engaged in reading, eating or sex - thus Severus did not notice the grey tabby tailing him from the moment he left the kitchens. Darting around him, she took a stance at the top of the stairway to the dungeons and stared up at him with a faintly accusatory expression. 

"Yes, Minerva?" He was proud of the vaguely bored note in the question. It just wouldn't do for her to think that she had managed to surprise him. "In need of a sleeping draught?"

The transformation was too quick for the eye to follow, but in the space of breaths Minerva McGonagall was pinning him to the spot with her peridot-green stare. "Good evening – or rather – good morning, Severus. Working late?"

Severus often wondered what Minerva had been like in her younger years. If age had mellowed her, as Albus often alluded it had, she must have been a hellion! As it was, she had the gift of being able to completely cow most of her former pupils – even Lucius was leery of the bun-headed witch. 

"I'm just pursuing a bit of… research before the term begins." Technically, that was the truth. Until he actually cast the Animagum Irretitus, it was all theory. Just because it should work didn't mean it would.

"I see." Those two words brought a cold sweat to the back of Severus' neck. 

Spy, yes. Dark wizard talents, yes. Master of his chosen field, yes. Former Death Eater, yes. Scared of a little Scottish schoolteacher? 

Fuck yes.

"May I assume, Severus, that whatever research you are so earnestly pursuing, that it does not involve the painful and untimely demise of Sirius Black?" 

"It won't be painf - it has nothing to do with Black." Damn. Damn. Damn. It was just unfair that almost all of his colleagues had at one point been his teachers. Maybe he ought to take that offer from Gadget, Widget and MacGuffin – at least nobody there had ever switched him and taken away his lock picks!

"Severus Nicander Snape, look at me and stop muttering at your shoes!" Head-of-House voice was not to be disobeyed and Severus resentfully raised his eyes to meet hers. "I want your word, your sworn word, that whatever it is that you are stirring up down there will not result in the death – painful or otherwise – of Sirius Black." Not only did she use his full name, but also she spoke in those steely ringing tones that caused even Albus to regard her with caution. "Your word, Severus, or we can go right this minute and discuss it with Professor Dumbledore." 

What was to be done? "Oh, very well! I give my sworn word that I will not kill Sirius Black."

"Or maim."

Severus opened his mouth to protest and Minerva raised The Finger. 

"Or maim," he agreed with a resentful mutter.

"Or disfigure, or otherwise harm…"

"Or disfigure, or otherwise harm…" Severus swallowed the whine that wanted to edge his words, he'd be damned if he'd fuss and scuff his feet like a second-year!

"Or engage in any behavior or course of action designed to cause injury."

Reining in a pronounced urge to pout – which he had not done even when he was a child – Severus spoke through a jaw so tight that it nearly cramped his face. "Or engage in any behavior or course of action designed to cause injury."

Minerva nodded with satisfaction, "I'll bid you good night, then, Severus. I hope that your research will be fruitful." She stood aside and he swept down the stairs with a scarcely polite nod.

Severus told himself that changing Black into Animagus form and locking him there for a while would not harm, injure, maim or disfigure him, therefore Severus could proceed - if not with a clear conscience - at least a transparent one.

~

TBC


	4. Like Cats and Dogs: Chapter 4

Hello, readers! I'm pleased that you enjoyed the last bit. ;) 

I want to warn you in advance that this bit earns an R rating and may squick some of you, so PLEASE read the note below before you go right to the story.

Yes, hetsmut is in the offing, but I want to warn you in advance that this bit contains a bit of slash, but in a different vein. Equal time for the girls! Yes, femmeslash. Why should the boys have all the fun? If you have read 'The Warming Potion Incident' or 'Through the Longest Watches of the Night,' you have some idea of the parties involved. 

Severus WILL – sooner or later – get very much and very thoroughly laid. I promise. I just want to make him squirm a little first.

Okay, okay!

I want to make him squirm a LOT.

And since some of you wrote to ask me about middle names:

In my family, having an adult use all of your names signified that one was really in the deepest trouble possible short of damnation. 

Summanus – the middle name I chose for Sirius Black – is Etruscan or Sabine in origin. The most likely meaning seems to be 'before morning' - taken from the Latin _'sub'_ for before and _'manes'_ for morning. Summanus was the god of nocturnal thunder, the opposite – or perhaps an aspect - of Jupiter who wielded it during the daytime. There was a temple to him near the Circus Maximus in Rome, and on June 20th supplicants would offer cakes to him. 

In the late Roman Empire, his cult seems to have fallen from favor. Pliny the Elder claimed that bitches and their litters were sacrificed to him in cruel rites and, by the time of St. Augustine, the cult had faded mostly into obscurity. By the fifth century CE, he was simply a demon lord of hell – along with the other pantheons toppled by the early Christian church. 

And, yes, the motorcycle also had a bit to do with it, too! ;) 

The middle name I chose for Severus Snape is taken from Nicander of Colophon, who lived from 197 to 130 BCE and was a renowned botanist, pharmacologist, physician and agriculturalist. Born in Clarus, near Colophon, he served as a priest of Apollo in Clarus. He wrote extensively, though very little of his work survives. What little we know of them comes from references to them in later works by others such as Ovid.

Some of his works include – 

                                               "On Serpents" (appropriate for a Slytherin, no?)

                                               "Theriaca," which is an extensive poem describing venomous beasts, the   

                                                effects of their poisons and proper remedies. It also mentions 125 different 

                                                plant species and makes first mention of the medical use of leeches.  

                                               "Alexipharmaca" is another poem describing poisons in general. In it, there   

                                                 are analyses of 8 animal and 11 vegetable poisons and a listing of  

                                                 appropriate cures.

Rather like the poem from 'Sorceror's/Philosopher's Stone?' 

The root meaning of the name is 'victory of (a?) man' from the Greek '_nike_' for victory and '_andros_' for 'of a man.'

~

Like Cats and Dogs

Chapter 4

~

 The plan worked.

Sirius had decided on a method of keeping Remus from knowing what he was about and put it into action. The plan was quite simple – shag Remus until he was exhausted, happy and stupid, work, shag Remus unconscious, work, and shag Remus again for good measure as you could never be too sure about these things. Repeat as necessary.

It required stamina, persistence, endurance and lots of salve to take the sting out of the rug burns, but it worked admirably well - even if both of them were both walking oddly. Remus slept like a baby and Sirius was bemused to find that one could indeed grin in one's sleep. 

The spell of Revelation had shown him Snape's animal nature and Sirius had sized the spell anchor accordingly, sealing within three black hairs. All he'd had to do was wait for a house elf to fetch Snape's laundry and lift them from an old green pullover. It was ridiculously easy!

Lifting the result of his work, Sirius gazed at it with no small amount of pride.

Outwardly a simple bell and collar, it was in fact a fusion of wizard disciplines. The bell was solid silver, melted and poured with one of Snape's hairs inside. The collar was a deep Slytherin green, made of a layer of boomslang skin and two more hairs sandwiched between two layers of graphorn hide. The charms laid into the object were three – a transformation spell in the boomslang skin to put Severus into his animagus form, a Keep-Shape spell in the little silver bell to hold him in that form, and a Wizard's Lock on the graphorn hide to prevent anyone other than the original caster from reversing or breaking the spell. 

All Sirius had to do to implement the spell was to touch the collar to bare skin - not that doing so would be easy - Severus had become quite buttoned up. This left Sirius with two options – hands or what neck was available above the high collar of the man's black coat and white shirt. The spell would activate and the collar would lock itself around his neck until such time as Sirius chose to remove it. 

Speaking of Severus, there was no sign of the bastard. For the past three days, there had been light under his workroom door, but not so much as a whisper from Whisp. This development was potentially either very good or incredibly bad. Sometimes Severus would get over his mad for reasons indecipherable to sane people, other times this behavior signaled a particularly vicious reprisal. Until that door opened, there was no way to know what the Cauldron-head was brewing.

All the same, Sirius would wait until after the full moon to try out his little trick. Even with the Wolfsbane potion, Remus' transformation was incredibly painful and left him bedridden from pain and exhaustion for a full day afterward. Sirius made sure that Remus ate, took the palliative and nutritive potions that Snape left, and slept as much as possible. 

Slipping the collar into a pocket in his robes, Sirius whispered, "Here, kitty-kitty…" 

He might have known that Severus would be a cat.

~

With a pair of silver tongs, Severus lifted the finished product out of the cauldron where it had been steeping for three days. He felt a thrill of pride that it had turned out well! The intricately braided collar of boomslang, basilisk and graphorn hide was now a rich crimson with the hardware a gleaming gold. Picking up a pair of gold tags, he hung them from a D-ring on the collar and the spell of Animagum Irretitus was now complete. All he needed to do was to find Sirius in a distracted moment and the fun would begin.

Now, with less than two weeks to go until the new term, he had significantly depleted some of his personal stores. The materials were exotic and rare, and thus expensive as all hell. While his department's budget would not cover his needs, with some judicious bartering Severus was certain he could get the items he needed. Not many people had basilisk skin, scales, bone, crest, and heart to trade, not to mention the dried and powdered flesh. Forget being worth its weight in gold, what he had was easily worth platinum.

Gadget, Widget and MacGuffin would have all of what he required, dealing as they did in the rare and unusual. A former pupil of his took care to send him the Acquisitor's Bulletin, advising him of the going rates for current stock and wanted items. Basilisk parts, it seemed, were commanding heart-stopping rates. A single scale the size of a child's hand commanded more than Severus' yearly salary.

Leaving his workroom, he returned to his office and began his letter. His former student had acted as his agent on previous occasions such as this and he saw no reason to proceed otherwise. Severus had kept a very general eye on this one and had been pleased to note a continuing interest in Potions – while nowhere near Master status, she… his former student was a very competent Journeywoman.

And it was better for all concerned if he kept thinking of this one as exactly that – a student. They were proper with each other, their random correspondence respectful, and their treatment of each other formal verging upon ceremonial. If he desired… well, one should never miss what one never had in the first place. The pretty raven had found the sky and delighted in the winds, it should be enough for him.

But sometimes, late on winter nights, or when the scent of chocolate and oranges caught him unawares, it really wasn't.

Sitting at his desk, he dipped his quill into the ink and began his letter.

**_To: Miss Emily R. Mayborne, Acq. Sr. _**

**_      Gadget, Widget, and MacGuffin, Ltd._**

**_      Diagon Alley_**       London 

**_From: Professor Severus N. Snape, Master of Potions_**

**_           Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_**

**_           Hogsmeade_**

**_Miss Mayborne,_**

****

**_I hope this letter finds you well. _**

****

**_I have heard of your Investure and offer my sincere congratulations. Perhaps now you will make time for more advanced studies in Potions. Masters Piero Sabatini, Lorenzo Zaldivar and Farah al'Sabah have spoken well of your work in the field. You might consider a paper or two on your research into the shamanic/ecclesiastic origins of Potions and Alchemy. The skimpy coverage of developments in archaeological and historical research published in Potions Quarterly is woefully inadequate – obsessed with the new and flashy as the current editor seems to be. _**

****

**_If it is convenient for you to act once more as my agent, I have sent separately to the London office of your employer a list of various items…_**

~  

"However, those who had thought to escape the horrific consequences of anti-wizard prejudice in the Isles and on the Continent had their hopes dashed with the advent of the hysterical 'witch hunts' in the 1600s. Though short-lived and now imbued with deservedly negative connotations…"

"Emmy? Sweeting, are you awake?" The woman's voice floated through the maisonette on Vertic Alley with a late summer breeze. 

"Yes!" Emily Mayborne was arranged very comfortably on her bed, book in her lap, and a light cooling spell circulating around the large four-poster. 

_"Though with a specific legal origin in the early 1300s,in many cases the law merely codified local writ. With the consolidation…"_

"Letter for you, forwarded from the firm. From _him._" Artemisia Malfoy entered the room with the aforementioned letter pinched in her fingers as if handling something vile. Seating herself on the edge of the bed, she swept her long platinum hair back and with her nose in the air, handed Emily the letter. "He was awful to you, he's an all-purpose evil bastard and if you're that fascinated with him because of that one night, just fuck him good and long and get it all out of your system."

Emily looked at her in exasperation. The legendary Malfoy possessiveness could sometimes be a bit much. 'Him' could only be Professor Snape, for only that particular person rated the haughty tone of voice followed by a sniff of disdain after the pronoun. 

"Thank you, Missy, for your fine insight into my psychosexual motivations in reading letters from a former professor," Emily sat up farther in the bed and gathered her brown curls into her hands, twisting them deftly into a bun at the back of her neck. "I haven't even _seen_ Snape since graduation!"

The slender blonde sniffed again, this time with disapproval, "As may be, Emmy. He's till taking more interest in you than I like. Snape may not be as immediately dangerous as my father, but he's dangerous all the same."

Emily broke the seal on the letter and scanned it. "Unfluff, lovey. He's just writing to congratulate me on Investure, nag at me to sit for my Masters, and ask me to conduct some trade for him. He's hoarding that basilisk, but needs to replace some depleted supplies…" 

"And now he's using you as his shopgirl. Write back and tell him to get stuffed – no, wait. I forgot that he might enjoy that…"

"Hush. How else am I going to afford Erumpent horn?" Emily laid aside her book and regarded the silver-eyed woman on the edge of her bed. "Missy Malfoy, if I didn't know better, I'd have to say that you were jealous."

Finely arched eyebrows drew together in a scowl. "I am not. I've never been jealous of any man you've bedded."

"But of one that I haven't?"

"Emmy…"

Emily held up her hand and began ticking off her salient points on her fingers. "First point; what happened in that upper hallway is six years in the past. Second point; he has never shown any interest in pursing it - or me - since then. Third point; I was willing, Missy. It was Snape who had a sudden attack of conscience." A wry smile crossed her face; "The only thing that really frightened me was being so out of control and having him know so much about us – thanks to Peeves' bloody big mouth."

Missy was silent for a moment, then kicked off her slippers and crawled up next to Emily. "Budge up."

Emily complied and Artemisia fit her tall, lean body around Emily's shorter, rounder one, nestling against her like a spoon in a drawer. 

"I'm not jealous, sweeting. Well, just a little, maybe. I just know a good bit of who he is – or was. My father associates with a particular kind of individual, and I have often heard him say that Severus Snape is his oldest and truest friend." Missy's arms tightened as if pulling her friend into an armored embrace. "As for my father, you know what everyone suspects, but none can prove. _Imperio_ can't be traced after the caster is dead – very conveniently for him. I just want you with me, Emmy. I always want you with me." 

Emily turned in the other woman's embrace, thinking that under the all the arrogance and hauteur, that Malfoys might just be the most emotionally needy people she had ever met. "Look, you Blonde Moment, we've been friends since our first year, lovers for the better part of a decade, partners in everything. What makes you even give a moment's consideration to the thought that I would ever leave you?"

"It's just… sometimes, I wonder if I'm enough, or if I'm keeping you from something… else." Silver eyes were no longer cool, but burning with a need for a true answer. "Your family wants you to…"

"I am not my family, nor are you your family. We're our own selves, Missy, and I love you." Emily kissed her lover's lips and felt the tension drain from her slender body like water from a basin. Grinning against Artemisia's chin, she whispered, "Besides, who else would put up with you, you bloody mad Malfoy?"

"Only a bloody mad Mayborne!" Artemisia shifted, her pale skin sliding Emily's like cool silk. "Do you have to go right now?" 

Emily snuggled into Artemisia's embrace and answered the question with a soft, openmouthed kiss.

The pair twined around each other, leisurely in their touching. Even after so long together, Emily was never tired of Missy's mouth – the tender, passionate kisses that merged into her own, the gently moaned words and heated sighs were enough to melt her brain. "Want you, Emmy, want you and love you and need you…" 

Emily's Puddlemere United shirt went up, over her head and off, and her knickers got stuck on the shade of her bedside lamp. Missy simply banished her own light robes with a muttered word, impatient as ever to be skin-to-skin. Unhurried explorations became more purposeful and Emily's last coherent thought was that for a woman who had disclaimed all jealousy, Artemisia was doing her best to leave marks. Then her world faded into the taste of Missy's skin, the harmony of pleasure and need. Fingers sought and found, and Emily fell back on the pillows – her back arching as those evil fingers made a gentle 'come here' gesture.

"Like this, sweeting? Like this? Oh, so fucking gorgeous when you're wild for it…" Artemisia ground against her thigh, her voice a low and silken purr. "Imagine him, my darling."

"Wh…?" Emily's body jumped in surprise at a new sensation as well as at the words. "Missy what are… ohh!" She'd never done this before, never. But it was good, so very good, and Emily knew she'd be so sore and that soft purring voice was saying such wicked things against her ear, her cheek, her mouth, her neck…

"Imagine him watching, wanting – I want him to want, want him to fucking ache for you and want him to know that you are mine, mine, mine and he's never going to have you the way that I will and the way that you take me and I take you and I want him to bloody _burn_ for it…" 

"Missy, oh fuuuuck!" The surges of pleasure merged into one massive peak of ecstasy - almost painful in its intensity as it rocked Emily's body like an earthquake. Dimly, Emily felt her lover convulse in her embrace, sinking her fingernails into the flesh of Emily's thigh, muffling her own cries in Emily's neck.

Some long, golden-hazed time later, Emily opened her eyes and heaved a long sigh of contentment. Every muscle in her body was so lushly relaxed that it felt like cotton fiber. Missy lay in her arms, as boneless as a cat in a sunbeam, a smile curving her lips.

"You, my Missy my own, are bloody twisted," Emily tried to scold, but the words came out in a languid drawl, "Not to mention evil, perverse, degenerate, decadent…"

"I'm a Malfoy. Debauchery and licentiousness are genetic, like the hair." Artemisia opened one grey eye and regarded her lover. "What's your excuse, dear one?"

"Innocence corrupted." Emily blocked the pillow that Artemisia threw at her, rolled out of bed and walked into the bathroom. "I'm going to shower and go to the offices. Do you want anything while I'm out?"

"No, I'll pick up a curry later." Missy stretched and yawned, "If you're going to go play shopgirl for Snape, see if you can't deliver the stuff to him and give him a good screw – lord knows the buttoned-up bastard could use the relief, and so could his students."

The shower activated at a casual flip of Emily's hand. "You know, for someone who keeps warning me off the man, you seem awfully keen to slide me right under him."

The flow of water muted Missy's response to something along the lines of, "He'll know whose you are, now." Emily dismissed it as typical Malfoy ellipsis and stepped into the shower. The cool water and a bergamot-scented soap cleared the fog from her mind, leaving only the lush relaxation – and five crescent shaped bruises on her thigh, a souvenir from Missy's own ride on the whirlwind. 

It would appear that Emily was marked indeed. Well, Snape would surely know who those were from – if he ever got a look at her thigh. Which, considering his so-very-proper demeanor toward her, was most unlikely.  Silly Missy! Jealous over a hypothetical!

Emily was still chuckling over the other woman's idiosyncrasies as she wrapped herself in a fluffy towel and stepped up to the basin to brush her teeth. The laughter cut off as Emily pushed her long hair aside and stared at her neck - where a rosy-red love bite the size of a Sickle stood out on the pale flesh.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy!"

~

**_To: Professor S.N. Snape, Master of Potions_**

**_      Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_**

**_      Hogsmeade_**

****

**_From: Emily R. Mayborne, Acquisitor Senior_**

**_           Gadget, Widget and MacGuffin, Ltd._**

**_           London_**

****

**_Professor Snape,_**

****

**_Thank you, sir, for your good wishes and I hope that this note finds all well with you._**

****

**_I am pleased that such highly respected Masters have viewed my work with such favour and hope to continue pursuit of my studies in the future. However, there is an expedition leaving this spring for the ruins and ossuary caverns of a newly uncovered site in Honduras. Initial reports indicate masses of artifacts intact along with significant writings. The cursebreakers will have their hands full, and we are going to contract with Gringotts for an extra team just to handle the burial sites. I shall, of course, apprise you of any interesting developments._**

****

**_The items that you require are mostly in stock, and the firm is more than pleased to permit me to handle your trades. The market for basilisk is staggeringly high, especially as the wizards at St. Mungo's continue to need more for medical research. Please find attached your invoices, and review at your convenience – though I believe that you will find the terms are acceptable. _**

****

**_The Erumpent horn and fluids, and the Diricawl feathers are being held in Customs, but I will have them as soon as they are released. There is a shortage of qualified couriers, as it appears every wizard and witch in Britain seems to have something they need right this minute, but I will see these items off to you with all possible haste._**

****

**_Once again, thank you for your good wishes and I remain…_**

****

**_Sincerely,_**

**_Emily Mayborne     _**

****

**_~_**

The moon came to full and slowly began to wane again. Remus knew this as he became aware of carpet underneath his naked body and of fiery pain in his bones. The last memory of the night had been of him and Sirius sniffing around the dungeons. With the Wolfsbane potion in his blood, he had command of his faculties and was not a danger to anyone they might meet - though the urge to throw a good scare into Severus was always a temptation.

He hadn't been able to make head or tail of the scents down in the dungeons, though. Remus had always been hopeless at Potions and the majority of the smells were just confusing. The scent of Severus overlaid them all, though, and damned if Remus could make head or tail of that, either. The man was so full of conflicting emotions and drives that it was amazing he didn't split himself asunder. 

A blanket fell onto his body and Sirius lifted him with a slight grunt for the effort. "C'mon, Moony, time for a cup and then into bed. You'll feel better when you wake."

Remus wanted to tell Sirius that the only way he could feel worse was if he were about to die, but all that came out was a throaty hum. 

The bed was soft, like sinking into a cloud, and the sheets were blessedly cool against Remus' fevered skin. The transformation from man to wolf was nothing compared to that of wolf to man – it left him weak, in pain and burning with fever as his body went through the massive changes to bone, sinew and musclature. Before the Wolfsbane potion, Remus would be so debilitated and depressed after regaining human shape, that he often considered suicide. Even after he left Hogwarts, the pain of enduring transformation after transformation alone nearly drove him mad. 

If it had not been for Severus' damn owl showing up with his potions, Remus thought he might actually have done it. But Polaris came as predictably as the moon changed phase and Remus had the sneaking feeling that if the owl returned with her burden, her wizard would appear on his doorstep like a human Howler. 

Hell, even if Remus had killed himself, Severus would probably make use of Necromancy just to give Remus one of his infamously scalding rants. The man did _not_ like to be balked.

A cup was pressed to his lips and Remus caught the mineral scent of the nutrient potion. Sirius had taken to giving him this one first because it tasted bloody awful and the pain potion often put him out before he could finish it. The second cup came to his aid, washing away the rock-taste with the taste of green things and fizziness on his tongue. In minutes the fiery ache in his bones was quenched and Remus felt the relief flow out from his marrow.

Now the feeling of being wrapped in a cloud was even more accentuated. Embraced by silvery-white light, Remus fell into a dreamless, painless sleep as one final thought bubbled through his consciousness.  

_Oh, Severus, you're an angel. A fallen with his pitchfork square up his arse, but an angel nonetheless._

~

The lines of pain smoothed out of Remus' face as Snape's potion took quick effect and for a time, Sirius just lay on the bed next to him. The smaller man's body was covered with scars – old, white and numerous that etched his arms, legs and torso. Before Wolfsbane, Remus had torn his own flesh in uncontrolled bloodlust – the feared wolf-self inflicting pain upon the loathed human-self. Sirius had kissed every one of those scars, traced them with his fingers and tongue - knowing that for all the damage one could see there was ten times more below the skin. 

When Remus' breathing altered into the rhythm of deep sleep, Sirius kissed him chastely on the forehead, feeling the residual heat of the transformation fever. "Love you, Remus. Sleep well."

Sirius prowled their rooms, tired, but restless. The night had been interesting as he and Remus roamed the school and grounds, but things were bothering him – like having fleas in the back of his mind. It was not his usual set of worries – Harry was being watched over by half the Order, while Voldemort was quietly reassembling his Death Eaters right under the Ministry's nose. With the quiet fatalism of the dog, Sirius knew what would come would come.

This was something else. 

Perhaps it was just the logical consequence of being in the custody of the dementors for so long and then being the wizarding world's most wanted fugitive. There was very little room to _feel _in those circumstances. Anxiety, wariness, despair, fear, hate, even something positive like love or concern could be tainted by such stressors. Until Sirius had arrived at Lupin's small cottage he had been wandering in a blank haze that was lifted only when he was in the most extreme of circumstances. 

When he had arrived, it was just in time to pick a freshly-transformed Lupin up off the floor and stuff him into bed. Some transformations were worse than others and Lupin's degree of debility often depended on his state of mind before the full moon. Considering his friend's condition when he had found him – it must have been a very depressing time.

Sirius had been relived to note that there was no fresh blood, and upon entering the kitchen had discovered why. Snape had sent Wolfbane, and apparently had been doing so for some time. Considering the greasy git's complicity in Remus' current circumstances it was nearly enough to make Sirius foam at the mouth.

Remus, however, would not hear a word against the bastard. "He doesn't have to do it, Padfoot. Severus does what Severus does for reasons known only to Severus. I just leave it at that. I think that anything else that involves either of us is just too painful for him."

So Sirius clenched his jaw, poured the potions that helped Remus despite his own loathing of the man who made them, and kept what he thought carefully behind his teeth. 

Part of Sirius was humiliated that Whisp had such a power over him. That the bastard could make him hate, or make him angry or even that Sirius thought of him at all. Dumbledore was right, both of them had to rise above their schoolboy feud - it was for their own good they had to let it go. 

But Sirius wanted one last shot. One that Snape would remember for the rest of his life and one that Sirius could cherish. He wanted Snape miserable, he wanted to see Snape miserable and for the insufferable git to know that he Sirius had caused it. He wanted Snape to just fucking well WRITHE.

And if he was going to do it, he was running out of time to do it in; the start of school was a week away and Sirius did not want to waste all the effort he had put into his little project. Slipping his hand into the pocket of his robe, Sirius felt the tingle of magic from the collar and bell. 

That tingle decided him and got him out the door and down the hallway, stalking quietly and eyes peeled for Snape. 

~

TBC


	5. Like Cats and Dogs: Chapter 5

Hello, readers! 

DiaLin: I hope this chapter fulfills your expectations. 

Labrisa: More, as per request, and squirmage is in the offing. Chapters and chapters of squirmage for Sirius and Severus!

Sex God of the Year: Uhhhm. Whatever. ::: mutters incredulously, "Snapie?' :::

A Snape (& Sirius) Fan: Things are about to get interesting all over. There will be much to occupy Our Heroes, indeed. ::: evil, wicked, sinful grin :::

Aftertaste of a Razorblade: Thank you! ^_^  More to come!

Also, if anyone here is also reading 'Double, Double, Toil and Trouble,' I'd appreciate a boot to the head. I have a writers' block on that one.

~

Now, back to the story:

When we last left Our Heroes, both shit and fan were in position and ready to deploy…

~

Like Cats and Dogs

Chapter five

~

Emily was making breakfast when green flames roared to life in the cold fireplace. 

"Missy, love, could you get that?"

"Surely!" Missy came into the kitchen, kissing Emmy in passing, and crossed to the fireplace. Reaching into an elaborate cloisonné jar on the mantle, she pinched out some powder and tossed it into the flames. 

"Ah, Miss Malfoy. Good morning." The voice was deep and rumbly. "How are you?"

"Quite well, sir, and you?"

"Oh, can't complain at all, after one's centennial nothing runs quite as it used to. Might Miss Mayborne be available?"

"Indeed, Master MacGuffin. Here she comes."

Emily left the whisk beating the eggs and went to the fireplace.  "Good afternoon, Master MacGuffin."

The head of a portly, balding man with a short iron-grey beard floated bodiless in the middle of the flames. "Good morning, Miss Mayborne. I'm sorry to disturb your time at home, but I need you to run a small errand for me, if you would."

Emily congratulated herself on not jumping as Missy pinched her bum and went off to tend breakfast. "Of course, sir. Where and when? I'll need a little time to pack…"

"Oh, no, nothing so much as that. You can manage this and the return trip in a day, I'd say. The Erumpent and Diricawl materials have been released from customs, but we can't find anyone certified to handle them. And I have some items to be delivered under a personal seal to Albus Dumbledore," Master MacGuffin adjusted his glasses, "I realize that it's not in your usual scope of duties, Miss Mayborne. However I can't take the chance that thumb-fingered twits I do have available would fiddle when they should faddle and blow themselves to Kingdom Come along with half the countryside."

The quiet coming from the kitchen was thunderous, but what choice did she have? This was the senior partner himself!

"I can probably manage it in less than a day if I broom up directly."

"I can portkey you right to the main gate – the Erumpent and Diricawl have been specially packaged to withstand the trip. You can either Apparate back or ask Dumbledore to open a Floo for you at the school." The gentleman put on a pair of spectacles and peered at something that Emily could not see. "Your former Potions Master also wants to know when I will permit you time to pursue your Masters credential. I was unaware you had such plans, but attaining such a degree would be marvelous – both for you and Miss Malfoy. A Lore Master and a Potions Master would be quite the feather in everybody's cap, wouldn't it?"

That interfering bastard! "Yes, it would be, but I prefer to stay in the field, sir."

"Ah, yes. I did, too, at your age. I simply ask that you and Miss Malfoy consider it for a later time."

Meaning that at some point, he would make it an order if action was not taken quickly enough to suit him. It wasn't fair! She and Missy were adults! "Yes, sir."

"Very good, I'll expect you in my office in about two hours. Good day."

"Good day, sir."

The silence was now the thickness of a London fog and Missy was beating the blameless eggs into froth. Jealousy was usually called the green-eyed monster, but Emily knew that Jealousy's eyes were actually a silvery grey.

Emily walked into the kitchen and leant on the counter, "You could go with me."

"No." Sniff.

"Do you want to cast a chastity charm on me then, as you seem to trust me so little?"

"I trust _you_." A fat tear fell into the eggs.

"But not Snape." Emily sighed. What a mess. "Have I ever brought a man to bed that you did not approve of well in advance?  
  
"No." Lower lip quivering. 

"Have I ever brought a man to bed of whom had expressed even the slightest disapproval?"

"No." Another tear in the eggs.

"Have I ever neglected you, hurt you, or disregarded anything you had to say?"

"No." Sniff.

"Do you know I love you?"

"Yes."

"Do you know that I have always loved you?"

"Yes." A glimpse of a very pink nose and pink-rimmed eyes. 

"Do you think anything is going to change any of that just because I set foot on the grounds?"

Missy left off her punishment of the eggs and wrapped herself around Emily. "I'm being silly."

"You certainly are."

"And I'm a bitch, a terrible green-eyed jealous bitch."

"Indeed."

"Feel free to stop me at any time, Emmy."

Emily stopped her the best way she knew how and was gratified by Missy's hearty cooperation. She'd make it a fast trip.

~

Severus realized that in order to find Sirius Black, that there was no need to go hunting, as Sirius seemed incapable of staying away from him. Indeed, the man seemed gravitationally attracted – something that had annoyed Lucius Malfoy no end. 

A smile quirked Severus' lips – not that he had ever minded such one bit. A jealous, possessive Malfoy was a creative, horny Malfoy and the benefits of such were the basis for many fond – and highly erotic - memories.

All Severus had to do was to seduce Black into arms reach and the fun could begin. 

And all he had to do in order to accomplish that was to go out. 

He augmented his normal attire with Slytherin green and silver – just in case waving a red flag in front of the bull was not enough. 

A spot in one of the courtyards boasted a spreading oak and a fountain – not to mention an unusual acoustic quality that let you know when someone was in the gallery - so Severus took himself there. He settled himself under the shade of the oak and opened his book. One that he had read before, but not the most absorbing read on his shelves, he was comfortable in the fact that he would be able to divide his attention and not be drawn into the book. The collar was sandwiched between the linen of his shirt and the wool of his coat sleeve, a flick of his wrist and it would fall into his hand. 

The courtyard remained cool well into the afternoon, and if he had to wait any time at all, Severus preferred to do so in comfort. So he leant against the tree, skimming the pages of his book – the author had written to opinion rather than fact on the practical applications of so-called 'dark magics' – and listening for the subtle alterations of echoes from the fountain that would indicate another person moving about. 

The morning passed, an owl from Gadget, Widget and MacGuffin informed Severus that his Diricawl feathers and Erumpent horn and fluid were now free of Customs. They would be delivered as soon as a properly certified courier could be found, but he would have them before the start of the term if Master MacGuffin had to deliver them himself. 

There was also another – very tempting - offer. There were apparently a great many potions and writings being uncovered at the Honduras site that Miss Mayborne had mentioned. The firm offered a sizable retainer and publishing rights if he might consent to spending his summer holidays…?

Spending his summer holidays near a young woman who had the annoying tendency to show up in his fantasies and her Malfoy lover with an acute interest in recreational vengeance.

Oh, yes. Suicide in exotic places was just the way he planned to spend his summer! 

A jealous and possessive Malfoy was not only a creative and horny Malfoy, but also a violent and homicidal Malfoy.  Artemisia reminded Severus very much of her father, she had the good fortune to be more influenced by the LeStranges, but when crossed she was entirely Lucius' child. 

Which was to say – cunning, canny, amoral, vicious, bloody-minded, savage and utterly implacable. 

Given a choice of having a third Malfoy in his life and – say - testing guillotines, he'd have to sit and think about it. 

No, better for all concerned that he avoid Emily Mayborne, even in his head. 

The quality of the sound from the fountain changed. 

Someone was in the gallery.

Severus turned a page of his book; listening so hard it felt as if his skin was tingling with the effort. He was easily seen to anyone who might be in the shadows; indeed, he had no intention of hiding. 

With the aplomb that he had earned as a deep cover spy, Severus stretched and yawned, letting his eyelids droop a little. 

_Come and get me, Black._

~

Oh, yes. 

There he was.

In the cool shadows of the gallery, Sirius Black watched Severus Snape intently. The bane of his existence was stretched out in the shade of a tree, book propped on one knee. Even in such a casual moment, Whisp was still buttoned to the neck, his shoes shined and trousers as impeccable as if he'd only just had them back from the house elves. 

Sirius remembered the mayhem that was once Snape. Outside of his studies, there had been a distinct reputation as a budding libertine, an intellectual omnivore, a rakehell, and someone who knew no fear.

Who was this seemingly straitlaced stranger? What had happened to him, to change him so much? The thought unsettled Sirius before he steeled himself back to his purpose. 

_Time to play. _

Slowly, with great care, he stalked Snape - watching as his quarry yawned, his eyes drooping with drowsiness in the warmth of late morning. Reaching into his pocket, Sirius closed his hand on the charmed collar, muffling the bell in his palm. He'd have to touch it to the neck; he remembered how quick Snape's hands could be. 

As if reading Sirius' thoughts, Snape brushed a lock of black hair behind his ear, intent on his book. 

Perfect. 

Slipping into the courtyard, Sirius drew the collar from his pocket and made his circuitous way to the man under the tree. The world narrowed to that pale skin above the severe line of the collar, to the slow steady pulse visible as Snape tilted his head.

Five steps.

Snape turned a page.

Four.

Three.

A metallic clinking sound.

Two.

Sirius leapt the last step, only to have Snape flash to his feet, a flash of red and gold in his right hand as he ducked under Sirius' reach. 

Green leather and red leather touched skin.

For a moment, Sirius thought that Whisp had landed one on him – he was literally knocked kicking. His ears rang and his vision shivered; he lay still for a long moment and when he could see straight, he tried to get to his feet – only to find that he had four instead of two.

_What the…?_

A pitiful wail reached his ears and he looked at Snape – or rather at Animagus Snape. 

A large solid black tomcat with green eyes was standing splay-legged and glassy-eyed where Snape had been only moments before. As he watched cat-Snape tried to take a step, and fell with legs a-tangle to the ground – emitting another wail of fright and confusion. 

Sirius was hit with a searing blast of shame. He'd forgotten the disorientation that followed the first successful animagus transformation – the way that your body didn't work right and how the senses were all changed about. 

_Well, you wanted to see him miserable. _

Sirius tried to change back into human form, intending to go to Snape, remove the collar and take the no-hold-barred beating that Snape would likely dish out, but…

Something was stopping him; he couldn't even manage to shift so much as his pinky. Sirius shook himself in canine perplexity and felt something.

Something around his neck.

Sirius' rump hit the ground in astonishment. Whisp, that bloody bastard…

That bloody bastard was now getting his feet under him and looked at Sirius with an unmistakable sneer. Opening his mouth, Snape said cuttingly, "Meow."

Slytherin-green eyes bugged to the size of gobstones and all four of Snape's legs folded under him. 

"M-meow?" he ventured, plainly in denial. 

Sirius would have rolled on the floor laughing if he were capable.

Cat-Snape looked down at his cat-body and literally screamed in shock, the howl echoing madly off the stone walls. Sirius could no longer resist, he rolled onto his back, legs kicking madly in the air, tail a feathery black blur as he laughed hysterically in the confines of his head.

Laughter that cut off at another noise from the Cat. 

A not-funny noise. 

Green eyes were squeezed to angry slits, ears folded back to the head, and the hackles down the spine raised in sheer fury. 

Sirius got to his feet. 

Snape's tail curved in a puffed-out reverse-S and a low, ominous growl made Sirius back up a step.

_Oh, shite…_

With a scream of unadulterated rage, Snape threw himself at Sirius, claws out and murder in his eyes.

Faced with an intercontinental ballistic Snape, Sirius did the first thing that came to mind - he turned tail and ran like half of hell was chasing him.

~

She had never heard a din like it in her entire life. 

It sounded like a one of Hagrid's animals had gotten loose and was in a taking. Minerva stalked down the hallway thinking that she finally knew what 'screaming blue murder' really sounded like. Even Severus in one of his rarer moods had never equaled this and he had the worst temper of anyone she'd met in her seventy-five years!

She rounded the corner into the gallery and they hit her like a freight train. 

One huge black tomcat chasing after a very familiar black dog was all the witch had a chance to see before she found herself flat on her back considering the stonework in the ceiling.

As Minerva got to her feet, ready to go after the speeding mischief, her eyes happened on something in the courtyard – a book thrown carelessly to the ground. Something made her go in, pick it up and open it.

_Ex Libris_

_Severus N. Snape_

"Fucking bloody hell!" 

Changing to her cat-self, Minerva tore out after Severus and Sirius. 

~

Sirius skidded into a turn and scrambled up a staircase, lurching to one side as it disengaged from the landing and moved, leaving Snape stranded. Sides heaving, Sirius panted for breath. Snape on four feet was even more vicious and tenacious than Snape on two! Daring a glance over the balustrade he could make out Severus trying to make out another way up – his pink mouth open and hissing in frustration. 

The staircase reconnected and Sirius ran, claws clicking wildly on the stone floors. He had to…

Sirius stopped so fast that he nearly went tail over snout.

He had to WHAT?

Severus skidded into the hallway, spotted Sirius and came toward him with a stiff-legged stalk, the silver bell on the collar chiming with each step. 

What was going on here? Why was HE the one running?

The sense of species-specific outrage was overwhelming. Sirius had been running from a CAT!

The muscles in Sirius' shoulders bunched and his muzzle lifted to bare teeth, a growl as rough as gravel tumbling out of his throat.

Whatever the transfiguration had done to Snape, it hadn't hurt his fine instinct for self-preservation – he stopped his stalk and eyed Sirius warily.

Sirius took one step forward, saliva dripping from his snarling muzzle. 

Snape, green eyes unblinking and full-fluffed tail rising skyward in alarm, took one step back. 

_I'm the bloody Dog!_

Snape turned so fast that he might have swapped head for arse and nearly tore the air in his haste to flee.

~

"WOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOF!"

"MERRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOW!"

They were coming this way.

Minerva resumed human shape, panting, leaning on the wall with one hand. When she got her hands on those boys – and for all their years, they were still boys! – she would make them howl for mercy! How Severus had come to be in Animagus form was beyond her – his talent was latent not active, nor had he ever shown much interest in learning to use it.

Moving to the center of the hallway, Minerva assumed her best imposing stance. The barking and yowling was now accompanied by the sound of claws on stone and an incongruous cheery jingling. 

Severus blasted into the hallway with all the speed that a terrified cat could muster. His paws scarcely touched the floor and his eyes were so wide that there was actually a ring of white around the green.

"Severus Sna..!"

The cat flew right between her legs, under her robes, out, and down the hall  - leaving her gaping at his retreating backside. The ceiling made a sudden reappearance as all nine stone of canine Sirius Black collided at speed with a hundredweight of stationary Witch. 

Oh, she was going to make them pay in ways they had never dreamed were possible.

~

Argus Filch liked summer. 

The castle was quiet, serene. The ghosts and house elves were good company. Mrs. Norris had a chance to rest from keeping those beastly children in line.

Well, this summer was a little different.

For one, Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall had stayed on, and Remus Lupin had returned with a big dog for company. There were comings and goings of all sorts from morning to night, and after the events of the Tri Wizard Cup, he supposed it was all for the best. 

Bad things were afoot, even Mrs. Norris agreed on that much. 

So it was even more of an affront when the already compromised serenity of_ his _castle was further broken by four-footed mayhem.

Damned dog! You could hear the beast all the way to the Great Hall  - chasing after some terrified cat by the sound of it. So he chased the sounds as best he could, determined to help the poor thing if he could. Cats adored Argus, always had. 

He and Mrs. Norris arrived in the hallway just in time to see Minerva McGonagall get knocked arse over teakettle by the dog.

"Filch! Get that cat!" The redoubtable witch had hold of the big beast's collar and was climbing to her feet. 

The big tom was a streak of black, thinking only of _getawaygetawaygetaway_. Argus planted one foot firmly and lunged, nearly bowled off his feet by nearly fifteen pounds of cat. Holding him firmly by the scruff with one hand and supporting the hindquarters with the other, Argus admired the fine animal. Long, lean lines and an elegantly shaped head bespoke an exotic bloodline, and the short silky fur was almost slippery. The green eyes were an unusual shade and matched the fancy green collar almost exactly. 

Argus stifled a pang of disappointment – this must be someone's familiar, not a stray to…

Familiar. Not someone's familiar. Someone familiar. 

Argus might be a squib but he knew magic when he felt it - even if he couldn't actually use it - and this cat was nose-to-tail magic.

Mrs. Norris greeted the stranger with a chirruping meow; the meow that she only used for one person in particular; the person who made her catnip mice, her special tonic with fish oil, and the array of potions that Argus used to doctor the castle's army of strays.

"Severus?" he whispered in astonishment, "Lad, is that you in there?"  
  
~

TBC


	6. Like Cats and Dogs: Chapter 6

Wow! Thanks for all the reviews and crit! I'm so happy that you are all enjoying the tale. 

This bit is a little different, mostly exposition and scene-setting for the next bit. 

In the last chapter – the shit hit the fan.

In this chapter – reload.

I hope that you like this as much, and please let me know what you think!

~

Like Cats and Dogs

Chapter 6

~

It was later – Severus was a little hazy by exactly how much. 

Minerva and Filch had marched right to the Transfiguration classroom, where Minerva went hammer and tongs at trying to turn him and Sirius back to human form. 

It was to no avail.

After the last attempt, Severus took refuge under a cabinet, shaking so hard he could scarcely walk. Filch dragged him back out and squeezed a dropper of something with hawthorn in it down his throat. After that he spent some in a very tranquil state of mind, stretched out on Minerva's desk not paying attention to anything in particular. 

"Nothing works, not on either of them. Between Wizard's Lock and the similarity of the spells that they used, they've managed to make whatever it is that they did undoable." Minerva even sounded cat-like in her frustration.

"All the same, Professor, while I don't know magic, I do know cats. He's in shock and another attempt to put him right could kill him instead. "

_Must have been something other than hawthorn in that dropper… Ah, right, that's the one with poppy juice. No wonder I don't care._

Filch's rough fingers touched his nose, his paw pads, his ears, then moved under his armpit to rest against the rapid pulse there. "The sedative's doing him some good, but still, I'd ask that you wait a few days before trying anything else."

"The start of term is in six days, Filch! We can't find someone to take over his classes on that short of notice while we figure this out."

"What about the… other animagus? Couldn't he do something? The dog is another wizard, isn't he?"

Minerva sighed. "He is, Argus, but keep that fact tight behind your teeth. The situation is…"

"I know, Professor. I may not be magical, but I got a brain hooked up to my eyes. It's bad, with _him_ all in the middle of it. I'll go get the Headmaster, see if maybe he can get this sorted out."

"Thank you, Argus."

Severus considered opening his eyes, but was just too relaxed. His senses were dulled by the medicine - his painfully acute sense of smell was now no longer overwhelming. Hearing was almost distracting as he itched to investigate rustles and scratchings that he'd never noticed before. This body also _felt _more, and responded so fast that thought flashed to action almost before he could control it.  

Sight was… disorienting. Colors seemed muted while light almost hurt, whereas in the dimness of the halls, he could see wonderfully well.

There was a long silence and then Minerva spoke. "I don't know what you were thinking. I really don't. Or maybe I'm giving you both too much credit."

The Dog made a sound that was possibly meant to be endearing, but instead sounded like he had indigestion. 

"And you! I would think that somewhere in your reading that you might have come across the fact that the first transformation is bloody dangerous for a new animagus. He could easily have died of the shock."

There was a long silence. Severus thought that if he had to stay as he was, it was not exactly a bad thing. After all, Voldemort would hardly stoop to kill a cat, right? But… 

No thumbs = No potions. 

That got his eyes open.

Severus had dedicated his life to his work. Attaining Master status at the age of twenty-three was almost unheard of, and he had been published in the top journals of the field with regularity. Several of his books were required reading in university and post-graduate Potions courses. 

He had a monograph on ancient Sumerian alchemical tablets due to his publisher by June. 

He had students to teach and his Slytherins to watch over.

He had operatives to manage and meetings to attend. If Voldemort called and a cat showed up…

Well, maybe he would stoop to kill a cat, or kill one in the effort to turn him back into a human. Just about the only thing keeping Severus alive was his not-to-be-equaled knowledge. 

The sedative and narcotic effects of the potion were wearing off, though the hawthorn would continue to regulate his heart action and blood pressure, as well as keeping his muscles relaxed. Moving carefully, he rolled and assumed what he had always thought of as a cats 'loaf' position – legs under body, forelegs tucked under front and tail wrapped close. 

"Severus?" Minerva bent to look at him, speaking in a gentle tone he'd never heard from her before. Maybe all that chasing had tired her out.

"Merrp?" Communication was going to be something of a problem.

"How are you feeling?"

Well, how was he feeling? Severus considered. 

All his senses were working just fine, as far as he could tell. His cat-body felt a little odd, almost as if he was wearing a not-quite right pair of shoes. Some food would be nice, and some water. 

Now, how to communicate this? He licked meditatively at his shoulder.

"Let me rephrase that, just shake or nod your head. Are you in any pain? Do you feel well? Are you cold? Hungry? Thirsty?"

Agreement to hungry and thirsty brought him some water, though he had some difficulty drinking it.

"Just relax. The animal portion of you knows what to do."

Easier said than done. The cat part of him was as new to this as a kitten and he drank awkwardly, snorting some of the water up his nose and nearly upsetting the glass with a sneeze. Severus' whiskers sent messages to his brain that he was in a narrow place; it was difficult to override them with the firm thought that he simply had his nose in a goblet. Some minced beef went down nicely, and before long Severus found his attentions engaged an overwhelming need for a post-prandial, full-body wash.

Minerva cleared her throat and he looked up at her. "Your attention, please, Severus. Normally, an animagus prepares – sometimes for months – for their first transformation. Since you never trained that talent, I will have to give you a very quick course. You know that when you assume a form, you assume the limitations of that form. Hence, you have a human mind, a cat's body – but you also have some of a cat's instincts and reflexes. I saw you trying to deal with your whiskers when you were drinking, and when you finished eating you immediately had a need to wash. You'll need to be mindful of your natures, as animal drives are very strong. You'll understand that soon enough."

Through all of this, Severus listened attentively, wishing desperately that he'd listened during those long-ago days when he'd been in this room as a student. He had questions, but no way to ask them. Maybe he could manage to knock a book or two off the shelves and read? He could turn pages, at least.

Black settled to the floor with a long sigh and Severus gave him what he hoped was a gimlet stare. When he had his human form back, he would eschew magic for fists and pound the bastard bloody. Fucking golden Gryffindors. As far as Severus was concerned, Black could stay a dog until hell froze. 

Filch returned, accompanied by the headmaster and Lupin – neither of whom looked remotely amused. Dumbledore gestured Minerva out into the hall and Filch excused himself to return to his rounds, leaving Severus and Sirius with a highly brassed off Remus. 

Arms crossed on chest, he looked from Sirius to Severus. "You stupid, selfish, thoughtless, immature bloody bastards! You really went and did it this time, you brainless sods. This is the outside of enough, even for you prats! You'd better hope that Albus can put it right or as far as I'm concerned you can both stay that way! It's better than what you deserve, a far sight better than what I'd give you, that's sure."

Turning to Sirius, Remus let loose. "You've always teased him, always made fun of him. Now, even after all you've both been through, you can't have a little more compassion? Even now, knowing who he is, what he's risked, you still treat him like the greasy git, the weird little dark wizard! Shite! You of all people should know better."

Golden-brown eyes turned to Severus in accusation, "Severus, why can't you just let go of this? Is it worth it to keep carrying this anger around with you? I know what Sirius did was wrong, but damn it to hell, man! It was over twenty years ago!"

Severus felt the fur along his spine raise in outrage! _It was attempted murder, Lupin! Even if you had no part in it, you defended him! I got two weeks in the infirmary, and to walk around with your bloody secret, with a life debt to Potter as a bonus! The bloody golden Gryffindor got detention for a year in exchange for a grudging apology that was mumbled at the infirmary floor! Fuck you and that high horse you rode up on – and take the Dog with you!_

Well, communicating in words might not be possible, but the hissing, spitting and yowling was most effective in conveying his emotional state. Severus didn't care what it took – he would not give in, he would not compromise, he would not be ever-so-gently browbeaten into concession. He was going to hold his ground come hell, high water, or Albus Dumbledore! Let the bloody fucking blasted sodding wanking damned bleeding golden Gryffindors humble themselves for a change!

With that, he bunched his legs under him, sprang from desk to the top of one of the bookcases, and resumed his interrupted wash.

~

Remus watched Severus and considered that he had been less thoroughly cursed out by human beings with impressive vocabularies. Nothing conveyed fury and contempt like a cat in a spitting rage and Severus wore his rage like his skin. As often as Remus had tried to apologize or explain his part in the events of that long-ago night, Severus refused to listen – as the terminology of their youth so accurately termed it, 'cutting him dead.' 

And that even years later the Slytherin-Gryffindor animosity had declined only slightly from total warfare pained Remus deeply. Magic use was still forbidden in the halls – the hexes flying between members of both houses had been thick enough to walk on and had kept Madam Pomfrey quite busy. Slytherin and Gryffindor tables were still on opposite sides of the Great Hall – a development made necessary by massive food fights in which silverware, serving trays, pitchers, and benches occasionally became airborne.

It was only recently that the two houses had been paired up for classes – they'd had to be split up following an incident of warfare in Potions that ended with Gryffindor and Slytherin seventh-years glued to walls, floor and desks. Severus might have been sworn to secrecy about the events of that night, but Slytherin knew blood had been shed and wanted payback even now. 

It was a good thing that Severus had thought to make extra headache potion – Remus was sure that he'd have use for it. 

~

Sirius could smell the aftermath of the previous evening on Remus and felt deeply ashamed. This was the last thing he had ever intended, but - as was usual with Whisp – the situation had spun madly out of control. It seemed that every time Sirius and Severus interacted that fickle Fate not only made use of that famous finger, but also bent them over and vigorously buggered them both.

Still, this was hardly all his fault! Remus was overreacting, really. Severus was, is, and ever would be a greasy git and a weird dark wizard - the supercilious prick that he was.

The door opened and Minerva McGonagall came in, trailed by a very somber Albus Dumbledore. Sirius had only seen this particular expression once before – and it hadn't improved with age. It made him feel fourteen again, horrified at what he had so unthinkingly done, not so much to Severus, but to Remus and James. Those summer-sky-blue eyes were weapons that flayed him alive, cutting through every reason or justification that he might offer up.

Sirius kept his eyes on the headmaster's knees, resisting a canine impulse to roll and bare his throat – Snape was as much to blame! 

Albus shook his head and sighed, a sound so aggrieved that Sirius dropped his gaze to the floor, his tail curling under him. What was worse, there was not even the smell of anger from the headmaster – though Minerva and Remus were more than filling the lack.

"When I asked that the pair of you to find ways to work together, I did not mean against each other." There was no anger in that gentle voice either, only a terrible disappointment that was worse than any shouting. "Severus, come down, please."

Nothing.

"Severus." A pause. "Severus." Another sigh. "My dear boy, I know you can hear me as your ears are turned back this way. Kindly orient the rest of you to join them?"

A long pause was followed by a thump from the bookcase to the desk, and another from the desk to the floor. The Cat took a place in front of Albus, but out of Sirius' lunging range. Whisp was getting the hang of it, it had taken Sirius most of his first transformation just to get used to his legs. 

Looking from one to Sirius to Severus and back again, Albus spoke. "By your use of warding spells and two very similar processes, you have managed to lock out anything I might be able to do to restore you to yourselves. Even Minerva, with all of her experience, is uncertain how you have managed this… debacle."

Oh, it certainly was that, wasn't it? Sirius glared at The Cat. If Albus Dumbledore couldn't undo what they had done then both he and Snape had landed in the shit with both feet! Now what were they going to do?

~

Severus felt his fur fluff with astonishment, and a little bit of fear.

_Albus can't…? _ Severus felt his ears… his _ears_!… fold back as he glared at The Dog.

"Unless you each agree to release each other from this enchantment, Cat and Dog you will both remain." Albus was even more somber as he took a chair and folded his hands, blue eyes so very sad, "I ask that you both find it in your hearts do undo what you have done."

For a moment Severus wavered in his determination not to yield and felt his fur slick down in shame. This was Albus! The man to whom he owed his tattered soul, indeed, his very sanity and existence! Albus gave him refuge, shrived him and gave him a way to expiate his legion of sins. In all sober truth, Albus Dumbledore was more of a father to him than anyone else had ever bothered to be. 

But…

So many times backing down. So many time holding his tongue. So many times having to look the other way. Always compromise, always concession, always giving in. 

They were all looking right at him - Lupin, Minerva, Albus, even The Dog. All of them were waiting for him to do as he had before and give up the field  - maybe not gracefully, maybe not easily, but give over nonetheless. They'd let him alone until he'd managed to handle the taste of his swallowed pride and then act as if nothing untoward had ever happened. 

No. 

No. _No._ NO!

Mustering every bit of will at his disposal, Severus rose and turned his back on the lot of them.

~

Minerva felt her lips flatten into a straight line. Severus' body language was as clear to her as a sign with red letters two feet high. 

The sign read, "I WON'T!" and she didn't think that there was much hope of backing him off. The man's antipathy to Gryffindors in general and Remus and Sirius in particular was old and deep, while at the same time as raw and bloody as it was the day he awoke in the infirmary. 

The child Severus had been was what her own mother called 'Curious Cat' - must go, must see, must know - and the consequences of following his nose had been horrific. Even as a sixth-year, and with his feral nature tamed somewhat - there had still been much of the child in the boy. It nearly broke her heart to see the cold, aloof and suspicious creature that came out of the infirmary after the Incident. 

He never spoke of it. 

Even after his return to Hogwarts, when Albus asked him to back down from something, or loosen his grip, or change his mind – Minerva could see Severus swallowing his pride, putting a lid on his temper, agreeing with the man he honestly revered. Even when it cost Severus personally to do so. 

That was not going to happen today. 

Minerva heard the Muggle psychological phrase 'inner child' and understood the concept.

Severus Nicander Snape's inner child was spitting his dummy and would hold his breath until he bloody well turned blue.

~

TBC – new chapter by tomorrow, I think.


	7. Like Cats and Dogs: Chapter 7

Hello, readers! Thanks for the reviews. :)

The next bit, as promised. 

Work is going to be nuts, so I'll have more later this week, but can't say just when exactly. 

Please tell me what you think!

~

In the last bit – Reload.

In this bit – Innocent bystander too near the fan. 

~

Like Cats and Dogs

Chapter seven

~

Oh, it was a bad business. 

Young Severus had always been able to find more trouble than his weight in kittens and it certainly looked as if he'd hit the jackpot this time. Argus Filch had a soft spot for the boy, who had been an oddling even for a Slytherin – and that lot could be very odd indeed.

The thought of starting the term without Severus Snape to quell the students filled Filch with dread. The professor did not put the fear of God into his students; he instilled fear of Snape and made sure that they thought Divine Wrath would be easier to survive than Snape's Displeasure.

You had to admire that in a man. 

"Hello? Is anybody here?" A soft voice floated up from the Reception Hall. "Master Filch? Hagrid? Hello?"

"Just a minute, just a minute, I'm coming!" Who the hell could this be? She didn't sound like any of the teachers he knew. 

As he came into the Hall, Filch actually stared. It was the first time he had seen one up close. 

A long, graphorn hide coat, hat and boots meant only one thing – an Acquisitor. Generally considered trouble by the rest of the wizarding world – when the rest of the wizarding world did not need their services, that is – the Acquisitors of Gadget, Widget and MacGuffin were a batch of black sheep, eccentrics, freebooters and dilettantes. 

They also made boatloads of Galleons, and did incredibly dangerous things whilst seeking out the items and materials that high-ranked wizards just had to have – but, in Filch's opinion, were too busy, lazy or cowardly to go get for themselves. Anyone who could back up a team of Gringotts curse-breakers had to be a bunch of tough bastards. 

Even if this one didn't look it. 

Oh, he recognized her – Emily Mayborne had turned up on his detention list often enough to make sure of that. She hadn't aged so much as matured  - a little harder around the eyes, a touch of the budding cynic in the face. He could see her wand in a long pocket on her cargo trousers, the handle smooth from use – and knapsack, also of graphorn hide, swung from one shoulder. A sealed coffer was tucked under one arm along with her broom.

The disordered brown curls and glasses still made her look the Ravenclaw, but the way she carried herself proclaimed her to be A Woman Not To Be Trifled With.

He wondered if she'd been to Egypt lately – he'd always fancied a small icon of Bast for his office.

"Miss Mayborne." It was always interesting to see if he could unnerve former students. So many of them had guilty consciences that they were as jumpy as first years. 

"Mater Filch. Mrs. Norris." Each of them was accorded a polite nod. No, he wouldn't be able to unnerve this one; even Snape had a hard go of it with her. "I've come on an errand for Master MacGuffin to Professor Dumbledore, and to deliver some materials for Professor Snape. Are they available?"

Oh… _shite_.

~

Filch looked much the same, as dour and grizzled as he had been since she first saw him at the Sorting Feast. Mrs. Norris was still at his feet, her dust-colored coat and copper eyes healthy as ever. 

"The Headmaster and Professor Snape are… otherwise occupied, Miss. I'll take charge of the parcels." 

Filch was nervous, she'd bet her new Firebolt on it. The way his eyes jerked away from hers told her that something was badly amiss. The Ministry – an institution for which had Emily little liking or use – had been rumbling with more than the usual political potboiling of late. Perhaps the fat-arsed fools were meddling in with education now?

"Sorry, Master Filch. The materials for Professor Snape are unstable and require special handling, and the coffer for the headmaster is under personal seal." Emily literally could not hand the coffer to anyone other than Dumbledore – could not get more than five away from it, actually. "If I could put the materials in one of the safe rooms, might he be available after I'm done? The erumpent is unrefined and unless I get it somewhere cold and quiet there's going to be a hell of a bang."

Filch's eyebrows went up and he waved her toward the dungeons. "I thought that handlers had to be certified to even look in the general direction of that stuff."

"I am certified, up to Class A Materials, for handling, transport, and disposal." Certain substances and items were disposed of as a matter of course as being too dangerous – either in situ or in potential – to meddle with. Most Acquisitors were certified up to Class B, but after a particularly bloody run in with some dark wizards in Columbia, Emily and Artemisia had decided to take the extra step. 

Filch gave her a very appraising look, measuring her against something in his mind. "I've the keys. Come along."

The safe rooms were nearly five stories down in solid rock. Meant for the storage of hazardous items, some had – according to castle legend – been locked since the Founding. It was cold enough below to see one's breath. Filch took a cloak from a peg and Mrs. Norris settled herself by a brazier to await their return. 

The Diricawl feathers went into a room shielded against Apparition. Fat lot of good it would do to get the feathers only to have them find their way back to the bird they came from! 

Or, alternatively, have the bird find its way to its feathers. Diricawls weighed about fifty pounds and though good-natured and slightly stupid, they were vain of their tails and became ill tempered if the plumes were disturbed. 

The erumpent required more specialized handling. Filch helped Emily don a heavy lead poncho and helm, a full-face visor cut from solid diamond, leg guards, and a pair of quadruple-layer dragon hide gloves. The box of erumpent horn was warm to the touch and Emily carried it carefully into a room, making sure to set a containment spell on it before she immersed it in liquid nitrogen. The erumpent fluids were removed from their container phial by phial and transferred into smaller, strongly warded boxes. Those boxes in turn were then placed in another box, and the whole lot set in a room so strongly shielded it could contain an explosion from Muggle atomic bomb.

By the end of the whole thing, Emily was sweating as if she were in the heart of the Amazon at the height of summer. Filch helped her out of the gear, and Emily luxuriated in the cold, rolling up her hair to let the sweat on the back of her neck cool. 

"So, you've kept up your education, then." Filch lifted the poncho from her shoulders. "Potions, specifically?"

Emily blinked. He'd said more to her in one day than he had in an entire year when she was a student. "Yes. Mostly the practical applications, though I enjoy archeological and historical research as well."

"Hmm." Once again, the shrewd look, this time with something that might have been a smile. This made Emily deeply uneasy. "Come along then. I'll take you to the headmaster."

~

Bloodied, but unbowed accurately described Severus' demeanor. 

Sitting squarely in the middle of Minerva McGonagall's desk, he mimicked the posture of a statue of Bast he had admired on a visit to the Louvre. 

And pretended he was just as stone deaf as that statue, too.

Albus sighed, turning to Lupin and The Dog. "This may go more easily if you and Sirius were to absent yourselves."

_Yes, do absent yourselves. I have a destination in mind, but I regret more than I can express that I can't tell you how to get there. _

Remus ran his hand through his already rumpled hair, looking about to pull it out in clumps. "Yes, headmaster."

"However," Albus gave Severus a very long look, "since we have no idea how long this is likely to take, it may be prudent to disguise you further, Sirius. Harry and his friends might well take exception to this… ah… this. While the parameters of the spell dictate that you must remain in dog form, I suggest that we give you a more… amiable aspect."

Sirius cocked his shaggy head and stared at the white-bearded wizard. As of now, Sirius in dog aspect most resembled an exceptionally large, black Newfoundland. To the exceptionally superstitious of the wizarding world, he looked like a Grim. That twit Trelawny had driven everyone bonkers over Potter being stalked by one such – but it had only been Black skulking about. 

"I suggest something less imposing, more likely to pass without comment. A family dog type of dog." 

Severus felt his ears perk even as Sirius whined in apprehension.

_Cocker spaniel! Albus! Turn him into a Cocker spaniel! _

"Oh, don't worry, my lad. Minerva will handle this one, she's had lots of practice."

_Pomeranian! __Bichon Frise! No… a Maltese or.. or what is that other one… a Shit Stew?_

Minerva tilted her head to one side, tapping her lower lip with her wand as she considered the now cowering dog at her feet. "Something comforting, unthreatening, good-natured…"

Severus shut his eyes, concentrating with his whole being on one word, one mental image.

_Pekingese... Pekingese… Pekingese…_

There was a loud bang that made him nearly leap from the desk and he opened his eyes, eager to see what Minerva had made of Sirius. In his place sat a Border Collie of brown-and-white coloration.

Severus was disappointed. He'd had a jolly time picturing the sod as something little and yappy. 

"We can't call you Sirius and we'll have to call you something other than Snuffles…" Minerva pocketed her wand.

_Snuffles? I mean_…** _Snuffles?!_ **Severus choked, trying to resist the need to race about like a mad thing – something he supposed was the feline equivalent of laughter.

Remus chimed in mock-thoughtfully, "How about Arris? Or Bampot? Stroppy? Stroppy the Dog - nice ring to it. No? How about Bellend?"

Black the Border Collie glared.

Severus had no idea that Remus had such a scandalous vocabulary. _Careful, Lupin. Be nice or he'll piss on your leg. I favor 'Bellend' as he's such a prick. _

"Remus John Lupin! Mind your tongue!" Minerva's whipcrack voice made Lupin blush. 

Albus pursed his lips and then smiled, "I had a collie named Toffee when I was a lad, will that do?"

The Dog howled. 

This time the impulse was overwhelming and Severus fell over on his side, wriggling and rolling his way across the desktop. If he'd been human, he would have been on his knees with laughter.

"You own fault, _Toffee_," Remus chuckled. "Unless you want to undo what you've done?"

The Dog sulked, turning his back on the assemblage.

"And Severus, there's no doubt that you're very much a tom." Remus continued, a spark in his eye, "Good lord, man! What a pair you've got! It looks like you're carrying a hassock right below your tail! I think we can just call you Balls."

Severus hissed and slapped at the hand that had Lupin tried to pet him with. _Keep your comments and your hands to yourself!_

"Remus." Minerva's voice could have frosted the Sahara. 

The werewolf took possession of himself – failing miserably at looking chastened – and turned to go. "Come, Toffee."

Severus licked a paw and glared at their retreating backs – his claws ached at the base and the urge to sink them into something was very strong. If that something yelled, then it was all to the better. 

Minerva took her own chair so that she and Albus had Severus bracketed. Severus steeled himself for an all-out, round-the-world guilt trip.

~

Albus Dumbledore had seen and done a great deal in his century-and-a-half of life. He had found trust where trust was not, taken a glimmer of light and fed the flames high to drive back the deepest of darkness. In his lifetime, according to his peers, he had managed to achieve the impossible with astonishing regularity.

Albus thought that he might truly be stumped this time. 

Severus, the most stubborn of humans, was now evidently the most stubborn of cats – and that was really saying something. Unfortunately, it had to be Severus who would have to give over first – dog's paws were not as agile as those of a cat. Sirius could no more undo Severus' collar than he could flap his ears and fly to Hogsmeade. 

"I know, Severus, that I have asked much of you. You have given more than I or the Order had any right to expect." That the headmaster knew the probable reason for Severus' obstinacy helped not a bit. "I must ask once more; please, my son, do not cut off your nose to spite your face. Please, relent just once more. If you will release Sirius from your enchantment, I have no doubt that he will release you from his."

Well, actually he did, but Albus was not above lowering the boom on Sirius if he tried to wiggle out of it. 

He could see the fight going on behind the inscrutable feline façade. Albus had granted Severus forgiveness long, long ago – but Severus was still trying to earn it, deserve it, never understanding that he already had it. In everything Albus had done or decreed Severus had backed him with all the considerable will at his disposal – even when he disagreed vehemently with the decision. However it appeared that asking him to give way before his enemy was simply Too Much. 

Albus watched the resolve waver, then firm to adamantine. 

No. 

"If this isn't settled soon, we're not going to have anyone to teach Potions! We'll never find someone on such short notice – at least not with any level of competency! In less than six days, those halls are going to be full of students! What are we going to tell them?" Minerva looked at Severus and pointed to the door.

Severus looked at her finger.

Minerva swore. Albus blushed. 

A diffident knock sounded at the door and Filch's voice called, "Professors? Headmaster?"

Filch would not be interrupting unless it was important. "Yes, Filch?" Albus called. "Come in."

The caretaker came into the room, followed by a young woman in the distinctive field garb of one of Reginald MacGuffin's Acquisitors. 

"Headmaster, sir, Miss Mayborne has a package for you, under personal seal or I'd not have interrupted your… meeting." 

"Ah! Yes! Reginald is prompt as always. Do come in, Emily!" Albus rose with a smile. It was so good to see one of his children all grown and about in the world. "How is Artemisia? I hear that you both attained Investure this year. My congratulations, my dear!" Taking the coffer from her, Albus set it carefully beside the desk. "Do let me draw you a chair, you'll stay for tea?"

Miss Mayborne replied that Artemisia was well, and thanked him for his good wishes. "But Missy was muttering something about cooking a goose when I left, so I should probably be brooming it back."

"Oh, I can do better than that. I'll activate a portkey for you. There was a lovely lemon tart cooling this morning," he eyed her shrewdly. "I do seem to remember that was your favorite?"

"Yes, sir, it was, but…"

Severus made a leap from the desk to the top of the bookcase again and hid behind a bust of Hypatia of Alexandria. Albus smiled – oh, yes. _That._ Poor Severus!

"Miss Mayborne has kept up her education since leaving, Professors." Filch looked right at Minerva. "Quite a range of talents she's developed – handling erumpent and all." 

Albus drew a chair with his wand and out of politeness Emily was forced to sit. 

"What have you been studying, Miss Mayborne? I was under the impression that an Acquisitor's traveling left little time for academic pursuit." Minerva peered at the young woman over the tops of her glasses. 

Filch answered right over the top of Emily's reply. "Miss Mayborne has been studying Potions, Professors." 

With a smile and a swish of her wand, Minerva's desktop was set with a full cream tea. "Do you take milk, Miss Mayborne, or lemon?" 

Albus settled back, taking a Napoleon, and prepared to watch a battle of wills. 

~

_Oh, bad. Oh, bad. __Bad. Bad. Very, very bad._

Severus closed his eyes and hoped it would all just go away. 

Emily Mayborne stood as much chance of getting out of this as a paper dog chasing an asbestos cat though hell. Minerva's green eyes glittered at him over the rim of her teacup and Severus hissed in anger and frustration.

He could go to Black, end it now and take the loss of face. When all you have is shit on toast, you pour on the catsup and eat fast. What made Minerva think of having this girl, this barely post-pubescent _child_ teaching Potions? Teaching _his_ class?

Despite a valiant defense, Miss Mayborne's objections were falling like heads under the executioner's axe. 

Her claim not to know the material was one he took as a personal insult – his worst students left Hogwarts knowing more than most senior apprentices! Minerva dispatched that objection by producing Severus' lesson plans – required ever since he had proposed poisoning his fourth years in order to see if they had been studying their antidotes.

Emily looked up from the notes and charts, her face solemn. "I know all of this." 

Swish. Thud.

The next barricade was thrown up in haste. "Just because I know it doesn't mean I'm capable of teaching, nor am I qualified to teach."

Minerva raised the axe. Swung.

"Frankly, Miss Mayborne, your reasons are spurious. Ministry standards state that the teacher of a given specialty must be least a qualified professional in that field of senior journeyman status. Minerva nailed Emily in place with another slice of lemon tart. "All your credentials indicate that you lack only the time to sit for your Masters. Have you chosen the subject for your thesis yet?"

Swish. Thud.

"No, Professor McGonagall, I haven't. I prefer to spend time in the field." A light dawned on the young woman's face. "As a matter of fact, I cannot accept the position as I have a prior obligation Artemisia and I are going to Honduras to cover a new site."

The axe rose again, blade gleaming. 

"Leaving when, Emily?"

"March," whispered into her tea.

Swish. Thud.

"I'm under contractual obligation to Gadget, Widget and MacGuffin. I can't take any other employment."

A quick conference by Floo with Reginald MacGuffin resulted in Albus negotiating for a consultancy rate and retainer that was - in Severus' opinion – something akin to daylight robbery with violence. The only contingency in the contract was that Emily Mayborne must return to London no later than 15 February. Surely Professor Snape would return by then? 

"Quite so. I'm sure that the… matter… will be settled long before then, Reginald." Albus assured him, directing a significant look at Severus, who scowled at the old man from over Hypatia's shoulder. 

Emily made one more try. "Artemisia."

Oh. Artemisia was not going to take this well. Malfoys were ever possessive and Emily's beloved Missy was no exception. Against every expectation, the two had become a long-term pair.

"Ah. Yes." Master MacGuffin colored. "Let me just get her on the other Floo and inform her. A moment…"

The portly man's head vanished, replaced by – gods above and devils below – advertising! What was the world coming to?

After some few minutes of adverts for Fizzing Whizbees, Witch Weekly, and Kwikspell, Master MacGuffin appeared again – singed, smoking and out of breath. 

"Ah. I'll have Matilda Hurtleby pay a call on Miss Malfoy and reassure her of Miss Mayborne's safety. She got a bit… stroppy with me. I assured her that she could visit whenever the whim took her, but she was rather in a taking…" Mopping his broad face with a large handkerchief, the man made his courtesy hastily and closed the Floo.

Poor bastard. A stroppy Malfoy was no picnic.

Minerva poured a dejected-looking Emily some more tea. 

"I do need to know one thing, please, before I formally accept this assignment," Emily said quietly. "I need to know what has happened to Professor Snape."

There was a long pause.

"You should also know that there is a truth clause in my contract. I do not work with people who lie to me, either by commission or omission. If you lie to me, now or ever, I can walk out of here and you can settle the breach of contract with my solicitor." 

Severus wanted to cheer or find a hole to crawl into and pull in after him. It was not often that Minerva, Albus or Filch were taken aback, but the steely tones brooked no prevarication. Emily would have the truth, whole and steaming, and she would have it now.

"I'm sure you know, Miss Mayborne, of Severus Snape's temperament?" Albus asked, continuing at her nod. "Well, he and another wizard with whom he has a longstanding feud contrived an utter debacle, and are now stuck in forms that prohibit their taking up of their normal activities."

Emily blinked. "I see. And there is nothing that can be done by a third party to alleviate their conditions?" 

Minerva shook her head, "The nature of the spells which they used have made that impossible. Only they can restore themselves to normal form, but due to the fact that both are utterly pigheaded…" 

"I see. And where are they now?" Emily took another sip of tea.

_No. Oh, no. Minerva…_

The witch smiled and called sweetly, "Oh, Severus?"

Severus huddled behind the bust, wondering if it was possible to actually die of embarrassment. 

"Severus. Don't make me come and get you." 

He hissed. Minerva sounded far too amused. 

The scrape of chair on floor decided him - he'd not be hauled about by the scruff of his neck as if he were some naughty kitten. Leaping from the bookcase, he landed on the edge of the desk and gracefully picked his way through the dishes to take a seat directly in front of Miss Mayborne. 

"Yow."

Emily Mayborne's eyes nearly came out of her head. "Oh, bugger me blue!"

~

TBC


	8. Like Cats and Dogs: Chapter 8

Hello, readers! This bit is a little short, but I will have a longer bit ready this weekend or early next week – the gods of work, life, computers, and etcetera willing.

Thanks to everyone for the feedback and good crit, some of your ideas are giving me ideas! I may need to expand the plot-bunny breeding area… 

I'd especially like to thank MsInvisFem for pointing out my (now fixed) boo-boo in chapter six and Zephiey for some IM inspiration. :)

Now, on with the tale…

~ 

In the last chapter: An Innocent Bystander got too close to the fan.

In this chapter: Intermission as the players take new positions for the next barrage.

~

Like Cats and Dogs

Chapter 8

~

"Professor?"

_No. Too tired. Go away, pretty raven._

Severus was tired. Cold, too. 

Albus and Minerva had been whipsawing Miss Mayborne into an appropriately flexible state. A hard day's work – so he might have told them if he could speak. There were some arrangements to be made for Emily's accommodations and such, which Minerva unworthily took a punitive delight in ordering. Emily had swung between venting her ire at him and cajoling him into drinking some water. She even wheedled him into having some smoked salmon - quite good, that.

When Severus was simply too tired to object any further, he retreated to the bookcase and hid behind the bust of Hypatia once more. 

Now with even the shouting over, Severus found himself too tired in mind and body to move. 

"Professor?" The air eddied around his whiskers as Hypatia was moved, but he could not even open his eyes. 

A gentle hand rested on his ribcage, then he felt himself being lifted and held against something wonderfully warm. 

Very soft. Nice smell. Slow heartbeat. So warm. So nice.

"Master Filch? He's shivering…"

Rough fingers came to her worried call. "He's had a time of it, Miss. He's still shocky and might have the collywobbles for a few days."

_Collywobbles? Is that a scientific term? Does it mean that I have to stay warm? Can I stay here?_

Something soft and heavy draped over Severus' back,  "Come with me, Miss. I want to get some medicine down him before dinner and settle him for a rest."

There were some murmurs from Albus and Minerva about see you at dinner and Flooing Emily home so she could pack some things. Severus felt fingers stroke at the back of his neck and then Emily and Filch were off. Severus dozed a bit – the warm, gentle jiggling was rather soothing. 

"Put him in the basket, Miss. If you could get him by the scruff and pull his head back a bit, I'll get these down him."

Severus made a small sound of protest as Emily scruffed him - he was not some unruly kitten!

"No offense, lad, at the best of times cats are a little bolshie about taking their drops." Filch's fingers pressed at the corners of Severus' mouth. A nutrient potion was followed by something chicken-ish with a good amount of salt and green flavor to it, with the hawthorn potion coming last. Warm began to spread through him and his shivering gradually stopped. The basket was filled with something that he could curl into, so he did, curling so tightly that he could lay two inches of tail over his nose to keep it warm, too. 

The fingers that had held him by the scruff were now stroking his fur and he really ought to object but he was so very, very tired and the fingers felt so ni…

~

Working out the details was trying on top of an already exhausting day. 

Since Miss Mayborne would not only be substituting for Severus in Potions, but also as head of house for Slytherin, Minerva simply handed over his rooms. 

Albus immediately had to reassure Severus that his personal items would simply be folded into a storage warp – never leaving his rooms, but inaccessible to anyone other than him or Albus. The wards in the dungeons would have to be reset to permit her into certain areas, including his main workroom, she would also need to be using his office.

And if Severus yowled over all of this, Emily Mayborne yowled even louder. Her life was being disrupted, her plans and comfortable existence set on its ear! The girl wanted Artemisia and home, with all the comforts of same. 

Artemisia Malfoy made her displeasure known in a Howler that arrived at dinnertime. Addressed to nobody in particular, it was easily one of the most filth-ridden, scandalous, vituperative examples of such Minerva ever had the displeasure to hear. Another letter came with it, for Emily, that made the woman's eyes tear up and her lower lip wobble dangerously. 

Immediately after the meal, Albus opened a Floo and Emily went back to London, intent on spending the next few nights with her partner. The headmaster also laid on a _Prudissero_, which Emily took with ill grace – her contract allowed for such, but none had ever seen fit to invoke the secrecy clause. 

Minerva simply asked her to return three days before start of term, recognizing that to say any more was to invite a firestorm of temper. 

After Miss – no – Professor Mayborne, Mistress of Potions Pro Tempore was well gone, Minerva excused herself and went to the small suite of rooms that served Argus Filch as both residence and veterinary. Filch was on rounds, and Severus was curled up in a large, blanket-filled willow basket with Mrs. Norris keeping watch over him. 

Severus made a very handsome cat. The body was sleekly muscular, but still lean and slender. Jet black fur without a single white hair was short and smooth, silky enough to be slippery - there was enough of it all over her classroom as Severus had spent a good part of his energy in stress-shedding. 

Minerva stroked a hand down his spine, hoping that the obstinate wizard would come to his senses sometime soon. But where Sirius Black was involved…

"Take good care of him, Mrs. Norris, our stubborn lad might be four-footed for a very long time."

~

Everything she was going to say went completely out of her head. 

It had not been the best of days for Artemisia Malfoy, but her Emmy looked as if she'd been pulled through a knothole backwards and thrown in the lake. 

From the time Emily had stepped into the Floo that morning, Artemisia had been uneasy. By the time that Master MacGuffin called, she had been wound tightly enough to snap – and snap she had. Fireballs were not enough to soothe her temper, she nearly dove into the Floo to throttle her superior with her bare hands! After a contretemps with Mrs. Hurtleby – executive assistant, her _arse_! – Missy had some time on her hands. 

A Howler to the school let her blow off some steam. She also sent along a note to Emily that wasn't – quite – fair. 

But to have Emmy pop out of the Floo, cursing and in tears…

_I'm a cunt. Had to do the Malfoy manipulation thing, didn't I? _

So now she did the most un-Malfoy thing that she could – Artemisia apologized. 

It wasn't easy. The words stuck in her throat and were badly assembled, but only made Emily cry harder. It took Missy a good bit of time to figure out why – and when she did she joined Emily in a chorus of profanity. 

Worse than anything, Emily hated to be bullied or manipulated - today she had been required to take a bellyful of it. Emily was one of the most easy-going, soft-spoken, gentle, placid, unpretentious people to ever draw breath.

On the flip side, Emily was also stubborn, opinionated, intractable, self-willed and had a temper that of which even Artemisia was leery. Not that her beloved blew up at trifles – she didn't – but once that slow building anger reached a critical point, it was like having an erupting volcano in the living room. Malfoy anger was glacial cold – Mayborne anger was Kilauea. 

From what Artemisia could make out between the tears and curses was that she had been press-ganged into this, did not want to do it, and that the parentage of all those individuals who had conspired to emplace her in this situation was sorely in question. Furthermore, she wanted to find the person of problematic hygiene who had come up with the _Prudissero_ charm and remove his tonsils via his alimentary canal.

"_Prudissero_? Why? There's never been any question concerning your discretion!" Missy cuddled Emily's head to her chest. "There's never been any problems, not one!"

"Snape. Damn Snape." Emily sniffled and honked her nose into her handkerchief. 

"Bastard! I'll have his balls on toast points! How dare he…!"

Emily tried to find words. "No. Not he… gone… quarrel… not he who… ARGH!"

"Let me try. Snape didn't put the _Prudissero_ on you?"

"Right."

"He's not at the school, which is why you're to be teaching. You'll be taking his place while he…"

Emily shook her head. Damn! That was a tight spell.

"He had a quarrel with Dumbledore?" Missy tried again.

"No."

"With someone else?"

"Yes."

"And he's gone to settle it?"

Another head shake a nod and Emily rubbed at her temple. A well-cast _Prudiserro_ was bloody hard to circumvent – so, until she could winkle out more information on her own, Artemisia would leave be. She had Emily all to herself for the next three days - and planned to make those three days so sweetly memorable that Emily would arrive at Hogwarts with a dreamy, satisfied smile on her pretty face. 

~

If there was ever an apt metaphor for being in trouble with one's significant other, it was 'in the doghouse.'

If Sirius – now known as Toffee the Border Collie – was to be any more in the doghouse, he'd be sleeping out of doors. 

Remus was that pissed. 

The whole way back to their rooms – not a word. 

Once that door closed – Ragnarok.

"BLOODY FUCKING HELL, PADFOOT --- NO CONSIDERATION --- NO MATURITY --- EVERYTHING'S A JOKE --- COULD HAVE KILLED HIM --- YOU'RE NO BETTER THAN SEVERUS --- PERPETUAL ADOLESCENCE --- OUGHT TO BE ASHAMED --- JUST WAIT 'TIL I GET HOLD OF HIM --- THE MOST STUNNING EXAMPLE OF MUTUAL IDIOCY I'VE EVER SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE --- PINHEADS --- DOLTS --- MORONS --- WHAT WERE YOU THINKING --- WHAT WERE YOU SMOKING --- GET OVER YOURSELVES AND GROW THE HELL UP!"

 A flick of a wand and a full water dish and food bowl heaped with chicken appeared in one corner. Another flick and the door had smaller Border Collie-sized door set into it. The wand waved a third time and a massive, round cushion popped into existence next to what had been Sirius' favorite chair. 

_A dog bed? Moony, you can't be meaning to…_

One whiff of Moony told Sirius that oh yes, he was meaning to. Tired, angry, and still feeling the effects of transformation, his friend smelled like a brewing thunderstorm. With his tail and head low, Sirius went to the bed. He turned once, twice, three times and then lay down as meekly as he could. 

Passing a hand over a face grey with fatigue, Remus sighed. "I'm going back to bed, Sirius. I'll figure out how to deal with this later. The two of you better settle this and do it quick because I have no idea how to explain this to Harry."

With that, Remus went into the bedroom and shut the door, leaving Sirius alone with his thoughts.

Why had he done it? Sirius knew it was wrong, but he had done it anyway. There was no excuse that it was a fine joke – that excuse was decades old and just as invalid now as it had been then. Why? Why was it always so out of control when it came to Whisp? Words exploded. Any situation that required the two of them to interact would – in mildest case - take a turn for the worse or erupt in total chaos and mayhem.

And where in hell had Severus found the spell he used on Sirius? 

_Hmph. Everyone is blaming me for this one. There are two collars, two spells, and two… utter fuckwits. _

_Well, yes._

Sirius sighed. There was nothing to be done right now. Severus was in custody and might not be available for some time. Between Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Filch…

_Poor bastard. If he didn't deserve it, I'd have to pity him. Then again, what does that say about what I deserve?_

Sirius made up his mind to do the canine thing – when there's nothing else you can do, nap. He'd see Severus when he saw Severus, and until then there was little sense in worrying about it.

~

TBC


	9. Like Cats and Dogs: Chapter 9

Hello, readers! Sorry to take so long, but this bit gave me some trouble. I hope you like it, as it is simply the calm before the storm. 

Next bit: Serious Sirius torture. Serious Severus torture. Interhouse warfare. Cat and Dog take each other's measure. Remus plots. Death Eaters. A Ravenclaw's take on the Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry. Relatives and other hazards to life, limb and sanity. The Bed. Impressions of  a first-time teacher. 

Please let me know what you think? 

Sincerely

Chaos

P.S. Check my bio for my website and come for a visit. I'll be archiving my own fic there, but also my absolute favorite reads. You know, the ones that you can read again and again? The first one goes up this weekend, and I will try to put another one on the site every weekend thereafter. 

~

Like Cats and Dogs

Chapter 9

~

In the cool fog of morning, a large black cat slipped quietly out of a window and landed in the wet grass. He moved with purpose, and a little haste, to the base of one of Hogwarts' towers where he made good use of the cover of the bushes and then of the wet grass.

One of the first things that Severus had learned about cat form was the surprising efficiency of the renal and digestive systems. One of the other first things he had learned was that sandboxes had no bog roll. The discovery that he'd have to lick his own arse clean nearly made him give in right then. Getting someone else to lick it for him was just too kinky a thought to be allowed – even he had some limits, though there would be a few who might be astonished to hear it - so he'd had to apply his mind to a solution.

Besides, pissing on Gryffindor tower was a very satisfying thing to do first thing in the morning. Even better was what would happen when the dormitory stoves and the fireplace in the common room were fired for the first time. When dried to mineral salts and then heated, cat urine produced a stench that was utterly revolting. 

It was good to feel so much better that he could actually think of these things. 

His first day in Filch's care passed in a haze of sleep and potions, broken only by the sound of Mrs. Norris' purring. Minerva had come by to check on his progress, only Severus had fallen asleep in the middle of what she was saying. Albus had been by and murmured comforting nonsense, much as he had many years ago. Sometimes it seemed that the old wizard spent an inordinate amount of time at Severus' bedside. 

The second day saw Severus moving about, if stopping for frequent naps. By nightfall, he took himself out on rounds. Stopping briefly by Remus' door to eavesdrop on Remus and 'Toffee.' All was quiet, though, and off he went, looking for other things to occupy the hours. 

His vision at night was excellent. Moving about in simple starlight was comparable to being in a dimly lit room - with the moon out, he could have easily read a book. 

As of this morning, day three, he was feeling a little bored and anxious to get back to his pre-term preparations. 

But…

No. 

Let Sirius… no, let _Toffee_ be the first to show the white flag. Severus put on his best 'Cat Who Walks by Himself' walk and strutted back into the school with his tail high and whiskers _en pointe_. 

~

"Books? Check. Clothes? Check. Toiletries? Check. Broom and kit? Check.. Linens and bedding? Packsack full of whatevers? Check. Check." Missy muttered over the pile of boxes and bags in the foyer, frowned and raised her voice to carry into the kitchen. "Emmy? Are you sure that you shouldn't bring another comforter? Those dungeon rooms aren't what you're used to."

Emily had been balky about packing, contending that she'd do nicely with her expedition bags. Artemisia had refused to hear it. "You'll be bored to tears without your books and music. You must have a professors' robes. And I'll be fucked and buttered if I'm letting you out of here in anything but proper style. Isn't you who always said that if you had to go down it was going to be in flames?"

"What I'm used to is strange accommodations – often complete with local wildlife – strange food, odd hours, and occasional moments of pants-peeing terror. How bad can being a teacher possibly be?" A pan scraped on the stovetop and Emily poked her head out. "In any case, it's not going to be for that long! Now quit fussing, love. Susan will be here any minute."

"I just want to make sure that you have everything you'll need." 

The rest of Emily came into the hall and Missy snorted. Cargo trousers, trainers, glasses, brown hair in a knot, and wearing another blasted Puddlemere United jersey – Emily looked like a university student, not a professor. Though from the time her lover had spent on lesson plans and such, Hogwarts was going to have an epic shake-up in the dungeons.

Flowing up against her lover, Emily kissed her tenderly, whispering. "I won't have everything I need, Artemisia. I won't have you."

Missy's heart melted at Emily's expression. Lady Mother, how she loved this woman! "I'll owl you every day."

"And visit me every weekend," Emily prompted.

Missy nearly laughed. One of the first battles in Emily's new war had been over having Artemisia up for weekends – she had pointed out that there was no celibacy clause in her contract. There had been some contention. Emily put her foot down, saying that she was not under vows and that as long as she was not screwing students or the creatures in the school bestiary, her sexuality and her expression of it were her own business.

"But, Emmy, you know very well that teachers don't have sex, they merely have gender," she smiled, "Your aberrant tête-à-tête with Snape that year notwithstanding. Now, what's for breakfast?"

Emily's voice was a knee-melting purr as she cuddled even closer. "You with your legs over my shoulders and screaming for more?"

"I've created a monster!" That was much more gleeful in tone than it should have been, but right now breakfast was very far from Artemisia's mind.

And when Emily started kissing her, it was the very last thing on her mind. 

The first thing on her mind was getting naked.

The second thing was getting horizontal – floor, table, bed, it didn't matter.

Fast.

~

Three days allowed Remus to regain his strength and some of his good humor – though in Sirius' opinion he had not regained enough. The dog bed was still by the chair, but Sirius had been permitted in the bed for the first time last night. The reproachful sighs and disappointment in Moony's gold-flecked eyes was hard to take, though. 

Even worse was, "Here, Toffee! Here, boy!" 

Remus was playing this for all it was worth in the hope that Sirius would show throat to Snape. 

Not bloody likely. 

Sirius had been in his animagus form for sometimes weeks at a time, so he had no trouble with actually being a dog. He would however wager his last knut that Whisp was in misery. 

If he could get sight of him, that is. 

Sirius had been smelling a new tomcat about the place for the past two nights and if it wasn't Snape, Sirius would kiss a Slytherin. The little bastard had taken to anointing the foundations of Gryffindor tower with fragrant _eau de chat_ in the early hours of the morning when every self-respecting dog was asleep. 

Perhaps he could persuade Dumbledore to have Whisp 'fixed?' 

No, never happen. 

"Remus? Could I have you and Toffee in my office please?" Albus' voice came right out of the walls. "Minerva, Argus? I'd like to see you both as well, and if you could bring… ah… the newest member of the feline contingent?"

"We'll be right there, sir," Remus replied, then turned to Sirius. "Now, for once in your life, please, just try to be conciliatory? Just a little?" 

Conciliatory? Conciliatory! He wasn't the only one in this! If it was Sirius' fault that Snape was a cat, it was Snape's fault that Sirius was a dog! Snape was a dark wizard from before puberty for Frigg's sake! Where had the bastard found the spell anyway? 

Sirius desperately wanted to be human again, just so he could tell the lot of them off - this collie body was just too waggy-tailed happy for his taste. Even when he wanted to be righteously pissed off, the sunny nature of the Border Collie wouldn't allow it. 

Sirius mediated on the injustice of the past few days on the way to the headmaster's office until Moony coughed and stopped. Looking up in confusion, his shoulder pressing into Moony's leg, Sirius was surprised to see Remus smile. Maybe he was…

"Padfoot, I realize that taking the form means taking the characteristics, but could you stop herding me like a wayward wooly?"

~

Severus took an extra few minutes to respond to the page, as he wanted the use of a non-enchanted mirror to practice using his new face. 

He'd managed a decently stern look that was actually rather impressive – whiskers at full extension with a slight downward tilt, ears up and forward, eyes just slightly narrowed – not squinting but…

"Severus?" Minerva's voice came over the address system.

Yes, the eyes should not appear squinty. He wanted to give the impression of a frown, not myopia. Now for the appropriate posture… such a bother. He'd never really had to think about these things before; he just did them. Perhaps he should stick with the classical Bast posture.

"Severus!"

Hmm. Minerva sounded a bit irritated. 

Yes, the sitting posture was just fine, now how about standing? Tail up, chest out, chin forward but not in the air…

"SEVERUS!" 

The mirror rattled in its frame and he could hear some of the portraits complaining. With an irritable meow, he jumped down from the dresser. There was no need to shout!

When he came up the stairs into the headmaster's office he was met with quite an assemblage. Lupin and The Dog sat to one side of Albus' desk. Minerva and Filch stood behind and to either side of the seated wizard leading to distinct thoughts of 'triumvirate' in Severus' mind. Opposite Lupin and Toffee, standing with open defiance was Emily Mayborne - dressed for a Quidditch match and not for the assumption of teaching duties.

Severus nodded politely to Albus before taking the chair next to Miss Mayborne. 

"So nice of you to join us Severus." Minerva's lips had pinched themselves right out of existence.

The Dog was glaring at him while Lupin shook his head and muttered something that was probably not at all complimentary. Filch looked too poker-faced to be anything but vastly amused or royally ticked off. Emily, however, still looked as stunned and angry as she had when Albus hit her with the _Prudissero._ For her to be angry even after three days did not bode well – Emily Mayborne with her wind up could be dangerously notional and unpredictable.

Albus simply gazed at him with the same gentle reproach as he had with all of Severus' other failings. It took a mighty effort of will not to bow his head before that knowledge-filled gaze. 

"I have called you all here at the insistence of Miss Mayborne, who has been deeply and unwillingly affected by this quarrel. Because of circumstances, she has been forced to leave a job she loves deeply to take another that she does not want." Albus switched his gaze from Severus to The Dog, making it amply clear that he was speaking to both of them. "She and her companion of many years will be separated for the first time since graduation, and she is very angry that I chose to enforce her silence by invoking a _Prudissero_."

Remus hissed an indrawn breath and gave Emily an apologetic look – something he had plenty of practice with doing, what with having Sirius Black and James Potter for friends. 

And… maybe… he – Severus – owed… her an … well some sort of – not that he had intended anything like this – an - what an appalling taste in his mouth - apology, as well? 

Tentatively reaching out a paw, he tapped at her hand for attention, then gritted his jaw and bumped her leg with the top of his head.  "Mripyow."

"Severus, was that an apology?" Lupin was wide-eyed, smiling. "I have just been witness to history!"

Minerva nodded, "It wasn't in English, but it's a start…"

Huffing in disgust, Severus turned his back on the lot. He knew how to apologise! It's just that he was right so often that he hardly ever had to do it - much. 

"They are teasing, Severus." Dumbledore chided gently.

"Thank you, professor," Miss Mayborne spoke with unaccustomed respect in her voice. "I know that this is not _entirely_ your doing." Severus permitted a gentle stroke of fingers from forehead to neck. She really did have a good touch; neither too gentle or too firm. 

"Miss Mayborne, we really did not mean to infer… that is, we've known him a very long time. But I should not have teased, and for that I apologise." Lupin dared a finger to Severus' fur and got a surly hiss and swipe. 

"We snipe at each other so often that I confess that I simply… feh." Minerva shook her head. "No excuse – I'm sorry, Severus."

Three apologies? He was being jollied – there was no other explanation. 

No, he knew that Emily did not engage in false contrition and Minerva would bite out her tongue rather than have it offer untruth. Lupin apologised often, but Severus had long ago ceased to listen. 

Oh, no. No. Absolutely not. If this was meant to get him to give in… 

No. 

Turning back around, Severus glared at Albus.

_'No' I said and 'no' I meant! Let the bloody Dog, the fucking good-as-gold Gryffindor martyr swallow his pride and bend his neck!_

"Severus…"

_NO!_ Punctuated with the closest thing to a pantheresque scream that his cat-body could manage.

"Whatever it is that you want him to do, sir, it appears that he is not interested in cooperating." Miss Mayborne sounded resigned to her fate. "He can be bloody sticky on certain principles and if this is the case, I might as well go unpack."

Albus sighed as he rose and came to stand beside Emily. "It is a matter of principle, indeed, my child. I have asked much of Severus over the years, and should not be surprised that – as loyal as he is - he should eventually balk." 

"What about the other wizard? Can't he…?"

Lupin shook his head. "Having known both of them for many years, Miss, I can safely say that you will not find two more determined, pigheaded, stubborn, rock-skulled, brick-brained, stiff-necked prats than these two." 

Emily's sigh was despondent. "Yes, I know."

And what, exactly, did she mean by_ that_?! Fine thing to slander a man when he'd no hope of speaking in his own defence! 

"Yow!" he protested. 

Miss Mayborne snorted, "I have to words for you, sir – warming potion."

Now that was just plainly unfair! He had been doing his duty as a teacher, trying to keep a young innocent from falling into debauchery! If she hadn't been so willful and popping with hormones, she'd have been able to see reason without his patient application of multiple detentions!

"Ah, I can see that you two have had your moments – most of them detentions?" Lupin laughed, "I'm certain, Severus, that you and your classes are in only the best of hands. Come, _Toffee_."

The Dog gave Severus a look that promised mayhem and followed the werewolf out, tail low. 

"There will be a meeting of the staff tomorrow morning at nine o'clock, Miss Mayborne," Minerva rustled out from behind Albus' desk, stopping to give Emily the once over. "Attire appropriate to your new duties would be appreciated." 

Emily muttered at her shoes, "Yes, ma'am."

Filch came next, grasping her hand in his, muttering a greeting and giving Emily what must be a smile – even if it did look like it hurt the man's face. "I'll be seeing you about some potions, Professor Mayborne, that Professor Snape was kind enough to make for me. For doctoring my… the furred and feathered ones, you see."

"Yes, of course, Master Filch." 

The girl-woman now looked numb and dazed as Albus came around his desk and escorted her to the exit, a paternal arm about her shoulders. "I have no doubt that you will acquit yourself admirably, Emily. Severus spoke so highly of you as a student. Tomorrow is the staff meeting, the day after that the Governor's Tea, and the students come back that evening. Now, take the rest of today and this evening to get yourself settled. If there's anything that I can do to assist you, do let me know. Good afternoon, Emily."

~

"I hope you know, Professor, that I am planning to make your life a living hell for your part in this little press-ganging." Emily put her pack-frame away with a touch of unwarranted nostalgia. She'd be using it again, and soon!

Snape gave her a series of 'yows' and 'mrips' from his perch atop her bookcase. Missy had really outdone herself on the packing – every one of her favorite books was in there, and a special case for the ancient papyri scrolls from Herculaneum that Emily was deciphering.

"What I really need is a Feline-to-English translator." 

Snape made a fine-looking cat. Give him a lapis-and-gold collar, put a fat gold ring in one ear and he'd be the image of an Egyptian witch's familiar. 

The house elves had already unpacked most of her things, and she was now rearranging them. In disgrace from their families and with little more to go on other than an apprentice's stipend, Emily and Artemisia had furnished their surroundings with second-hand furniture and items from the locales where they were assigned. Alpaca wool blankets from Peru, brass pots from Syria, sat side by side with Italian Renaissance end tables and overstuffed sofas from chic Muggle shops. 

Even now that they made ridiculous amounts of money as Invested Partners, they kept much of their unique style. Even if their names went back thousands of years in wizard genealogies, their money was new – and more importantly to them – all their own. 

Emily just didn't like having so much of her things here. It implied a leaving – and she was not leaving Artemisia! It looked… wrong. Snape's furniture was well-worn, comfortable and very much his. The carpets on the stone floors, the time darkened woods and leathers were not what she would have chosen. The colorful _charro_'s blanket bought in a dusty little market town in northern Mexico was out of place here. 

As out of place as she was. 

She was an Acquisitor, not a teacher! She wasn't a real professor at all! And what would some of the parents say when they found out that a mercenary – the most common appellation uttered in public – was to be teaching their children? 

Gathering the blanket to her, Emily clenched her eyes shut until the prickling and shimmer passed. Not for all the treasure under Gringott's would she cry over this, not in front of anyone other than Missy. 

And certainly not in front of someone with whom she had a very strange history. 

There was a thump and a head butted at her calf. "Yow." 

Emily thought that there might be a bit of sympathy in that soft utterance and she wondered what it had been like for him his first year as a teacher. "Thank you."

_Might as well take the sympathy, because cat or no, he's going to raise screaming bloody hell when he sees what you're going to do to his classes._

Turning the laugh into a cough, Emily turned to the last of the cargo with which she'd been laden and shook her head. 

_Four bloody suitcases. Honestly, that woman can be like a child with a new doll._

Missy had insisted on ordering her new robes and used the excuse to indulge in a full-fledged shopping spree. Plying Emmy with frapped iced mochas the two had run all over Diagon Alley, and then hit Muggle London as if shopping would be outlawed tomorrow. Emily now had enough knickers and brassieres to go three weeks before doing laundry – not to mention some very fine fancies to wear under her new dress robes. 

Still. Moving her things into the wardrobe and chest of drawers, and putting her sheets and covers on the bed made everything seem so… permanent. 

Snape's bed. The thought occupied more space than she wanted it to. Since what had simply come to be referred to as That Night, Emily had carefully tamped down the very sexual thoughts when Snape indicated that there would be no follow-through. He had been most proper with her at all times since her leaving school, and she returned the courtesy. 

But still, there was that unresolved, incomplete act. In all her life, Emily had never desired a man as she had desired Snape that evening  - even as appalled as she had been at her wanton conduct the next day. While she had bedded a few men since then, gallant and enthusiastic as they were - even the act of intercourse did not heat her blood, inflame her reason as much as Snape's kisses. 

And if she was going to go on like this, she was going to be a quivering wreck by the time Missy came up for the weekend. 

Forestalling any further thought on the subject, she drew her wand and flicked it at the cases and opened the door to the bedroom. 

Only to be opposed by Snape, who attempted to bar the way. 

With fur slicked down and ears askew, he planted himself in the doorway and yowed at her. 

"Well, where did you think I was going to sleep? On the sofa?" Removing the indignant four-footed obstacle from her path, she entered the bedroom, flicking her wand with a muttered, "_Lumos_."

Just inside the door, she stopped and stared with eyes wide. 

It was…  amazing. In all her travels, she had never seen anything like it. Circling around, Emily studied it with undisguised fascination and some trepidation – she wasn't sure that she was at all equipped to deal with anything like this. Even in its current state, it was impressive, imposing, even intimidating. 

Turning to Snape - who was now glaring at her greenly from the top of her cases – Emily gestured to the veritable monument.

"That's not a bed, that's a Quidditch pitch with curtains!" 

~

TBC

~


	10. Like Cats and Dogs: Chapter 10

Dear readers;

Thanks for all of your comments and feedback; I really do appreciate it! :)

Here is the next bit as the stage is set for mayhem – I promise more on the Bed and such in the next chapter.

As ever, please let me know what you think!

Sincerely,

Chaos

~

Like Cats and Dogs

Chapter 10

~

Night and quiet. 

Severus lay curled in his favorite chair, but not asleep. 

There was a cat-door in his door. 

There was a fire in his fireplace that now lay in fading red embers.

There was a woman in his bed.

All was not well with the night.

Emily Mayborne was in his bed, curled up and sleeping in a tangle of silk and cotton.

He could not bear to go in and look. 

Emily Mayborne was bathed, and she smelled like a harem of odalisques when she was fresh from her bath. 

Severus had stayed virtuously in the chair all during Emily's nightly ritual. The bathing. The lotion. The cup of herbal tea. 

He heard the hiss of silk as she removed her dressing gown and the sounds of someone settling happily into bed.

The range of sounds that she made had been something that Severus had forgotten. Small noises of her comfort and contentment made him ache. 

"Good night, Professor."

"Nyow."

Emily Mayborne was in his bed – warm, happy, possibly naked and definitely smelling like a very carnal type of delight.

And he, Severus Nicander Snape – idiot _extraordinaire_ - was a cat.

There was a God  – and He was an utter bastard.

~

Remus lay on the bed in nothing but a pair of shorts. On his stomach, pillow under his arms and chest, he was reading a history of the Dark Arts in ancient Greece – and driving Sirius utterly mad.

Ankles, Sirius had found, were very sexy. Feet, too. And legs, he could not forget legs.

Mostly because Moony would not let him.

Moony had long, slender feet with high arches and almost delicate bony ankles. His legs were thin, but leanly muscled and covered with a fine, light brown hair. 

Sirius had never wanted to lick Remus' feet before. Never had he considered biting bony ankles or nibbling the place at the back of his lover/friend's knees. Grumpily, the Border Collie-bound wizard shifted on his most excellent dog bed and sighed.

"You can end it any time, old friend," Remus called from the bedroom. "You're not the only one affected by all this. That nice young Miss Mayborne – poor thing."

Sirius snorted agreement, anyone who had to put up with Snape breathing down their neck on a daily basis is someone he could pity.

Remus' glance was one of reproach, as if he could hear Sirius' thought. "She and her partner are being separated by all of this. It's quite something if they've been together since they were in school."

Well, considering that her partner was a Malfoy, who knew? It might actually be good for her. Malfoy and Slytherin went together like plague and pestilence so far as Sirius was concerned. Emily Mayborne was nice enough, even if she was a bit stroppy with Dumbledore. She was also a Ravenclaw and therefore more trustworthy than a Slytherin – though anyone was, really. 

Again, Moony seemed to be reading thoughts, "Slytherins are people, too, Sirius. People like to say that every witch or wizard that goes bad came out of Slytherin, but look at Peter. Severus came out of Slytherin and Dumbledore trusts him where he would trust nobody else."

Snape had been a bloody Death Eater for heaven's sake! Albus Dumbledore trusted a lot of people where he really shouldn't.

_Like a werewolf and a hotheaded, attempted murderer who just spent the larger part of his adult life in prison?_

"Just think about it, love." Remus marked his place and closed the book, removed his reading glasses and set them on the nightstand. A warm rush of pheromones and amusement reached Sirius' nose. "Besides, my back gets cold when I sleep alone."

With a muttered, "Nox," the grinning werewolf doused the lights, leaving the disgruntled animagus in the dark.

~

Severus made his accustomed rounds last night, more out of needing to clear his head than anything else. Upon returning to his rooms, he had looked in on Miss Mayborne.

She did indeed sleep in the nude. 

Severus lay awake until false dawn, unaware that he slipped into sleep until the call of nature woke him from vague and frustrating dreams.

Upon his return from bestowing another gesture of his regard upon Gryffindor tower, he found Miss Mayborne awake and moving about. 

Mercifully – disappointingly – clothed in a Puddlemere United jersey and matching shorts. The house elves had brought up a breakfast tray and he could smell coffee instead of tea, toast, jams, eggs and bacon. There was a smaller tray beside it on the round table, still covered

"Good morning, sir," she yawned at him and lifted the cover. "This would be yours, I think."

"Yowmrrr." He raised his nose and opened his mouth as he inhaled, allowing himself the full impact of the scent. _Is that smoked salmon? Eggs? Hmm… cream?_

Snape's mouth watered and his stomach was suddenly, achingly empty! Food! He had to have food! 

"Meeeeooooooowwwwwwww!" _FEED ME! HUNGRY! Feed me NOW!_

"Good lord! You'd think you'd never been fed before!" She set her coffee on the table and picked up the tray in slow motion. "Just a moment. You won't die of hunger in the next thirty seconds."

Snape discovered that there was at least one true word that his cat-body could produce, "NOW!" he darted between her feet and did a rapid figure-eight about her ankles, causing her to curse, stumble and nearly drop the tray. "NOW! NOWWWWWW!"

"Bloody… keep that up and you'll be wearing breakfast instead of eating it!" she set the tray on the floor.

Whatever she had to say after that was lost on Severus – he was EATING. 

Salmon in scrambled eggs made his stomach warm and full, the cream coated his tongue and throat with an indescribable richness. At length, with bowl and plate emptied and licked clean, Severus sat back on his haunches feeling much at peace with the world. He could hear the shower running and agreed that a good wash would set him all the way right. 

Stretched in his reading chair, he dozed after his wash. The house elves made noises only a cat could hear as the came to bundle away the trays. 

The bathroom door opened and woman-scented steam augmented with flowers and moss dissipated in the cooler air. 

Good lord. What was that girl doing smelling like that? She had never lost her preference for scent and had apparently refined it to a high art. Still, she was going to be teaching, not seducing the faculty! 

With a grunt, he descended from the chair and stalked into the bedchamber, tail straight out behind him.

And stopped, staring so hard that his eyes hurt. 

It was not that he went about ogling young, healthy bodies. He taught row upon row of such every year with no trouble at all – they were students, young and impressionable. Even those who had figured out the power of sex were clumsy with it, unsubtle and amateurish in their attempt to wield it. The few who foolishly thought him approachable were rapidly and brutally disabused of that errant notion.

Perhaps it was simply the fact the he had desired and found the desire returned, or the fact that they had come within a hair of consummating that desire that held him now. Perhaps it was that – in his less disciplined moments – some few of his fantasies had been based on conjecture of what lay under the ultimate layer of Miss Mayborne's wardrobe. 

Emily was a very woman-shaped woman with curves, slopes, and mounds that reminded him of a landscape. No skin-and-bones, semi-starved waif, she. Muscle smoothed with a cushion of flesh, the gentle curve of a belly instead of a flat plain. The gentle bas-relief of her collarbone shaded into a shoulder that he suddenly wanted to lick. Her waist flared into wide hips and an ass he had dreamed about getting his hands on once more – round and smooth and… 

Well, he certainly had facts enough to sustain him now! Clad only in her long hair, a brassiere and… those weren't like any knickers he had ever seen. He hoped she hadn't paid much for them, other than a thin band of fabric, they'd no back to them at all!

Severus turned and stalked back out of the room. So now he was a pathetic voyeur, peeping at women whilst they were undressed and unaware. His fur rippled with shame and he immediately set himself to washing the self-disgust away.

Albus maintained that Severus was his own harshest critic, flagellating himself endlessly for the most trifling of infractions. That long-ago night, after stashing Peeves, Severus had gone immediately to Albus and confessed the whole thing. Appalled at his own lack of control – he should have broken the clinch when that barrier went down – Severus offered to resign on the spot. 

Albus brought out Severus' documents of tenure and spent a good bit of time scanning them. 

"Severus, I'm terribly sorry about this," the old man had looked up at him with sorrowful eyes, "but while I can find terms requiring honor, adherence to the rules of Hogwarts staff, discretion, respect, and honesty – I can find nothing in your terms of employ that require celibacy, chastity, saintly virtue in the face of an armful of willing temptation, or that you check your balls at the gate. Sorry, dear boy, you're stuck."

Stuck, yes, he certainly was stuck. 

And it was all the fault of The Dog.

He would get even. He would! No matter what it took or how miserable it made him, Sirius bloody Black would crawl and beg before Severus would relent.

Oh, the serenity that mental image engendered. Severus felt his shoulders relax as he concentrated on the image of Toffee in supplication at his feet, begging forgiveness and a return to human form. 

~

Remus heard the voices coming up the stairwell before he saw the owners.

"Nyowr!" 

"Don't you take that tone with me, you stroppy thing. This is a faculty meeting, and I doubt that any of the other staff are being babysat by their familiars."

"Mrow yow mrip now! Mrrrrr." 

"Bitch all you want, I can't understand a word you're saying."

Severus made a highly expressive feline; Remus could hear the seething frustration very well. He slowed his steps so that he and Miss Mayborne would meet at the top of the stairs. 

"Good morning, Professor Mayborne, and… er… " Remus was at a loss on how to greet Severus. Albus was going to put it about that Snape had been called away on urgent family business involving some of the more notorious members of his bloodline. 

"Good morning, Professor Lupin, and this is Pamiu." Emily offered blandly and Remus coughed to cover his laugh. No, Severus would not appreciate being called 'Old Tomcat' even if it was in ancient Egyptian!

"Good morning, Pamiu." 

Severus merely narrowed his eyes in a green glare, the very image of frosty offended dignity. 

One of these days, he hoped Severus would actually _listen_ to him. Even if he could not mend the fences with Severus, he wanted to at the very least have a civil conversation across it. Remus thought sadly that if his friends had protected him, Severus' had paid his passage to hell.

Remus instead turned his attention to young Emily and gave his 'fatherly professor' smile. The young woman smelled distinctly nervous as she fiddled with the books and parchments cradled almost defensively in one arm. "You're not nervous, are you? You're a steely-eyed Acquisitor, surely you're not scared of a lot of stuffy old teachers?"

Emily looked at him over the tops of her glasses. "Spitless. Just spitless. I mean… McGonagall?"

"Would it help at all if I told you it was normal? It's a little like always being a child to one's parents," he chuckled. "The first year I taught here, someone would address me as 'Professor' and I would turn around to see who was behind me."

"Yow." Came the definite agreement from near his feet. 

"See? Sev… ah… he and I agree on nothing but we can agree on that." Remus carefully did not mention that the one-sided feud between him and Severus resulted in Remus quitting before angry parents could besiege the school. 

Emily's look said that she knew something about it, but she chose to venture no further comment, asking instead, "What are you teaching, Professor Lupin?"

"Me? I'm handling Combative Magic whilst Professor Umbridge recovers from his latest attempt at finishing the Annual Swedish Broom Race." He gestured her down the corridor to the Staff room, Severus walking between them with the 'Cat Who Walks by Himself' air. 

The woman winced. "Again? He was three years getting over the last time through! Did he at least finish?"

Remus shook his head, "A Swedish Short Snout tail-slapped him into a fjord."

"You'd think he'd learn by now. That makes what, four times?" Remus opened the door for her and tried not to bow as His Excellency The Cat went strutting through at her side. 

Good thing Sirius had been in too much of a napping mood to attend.

They took a pair of chairs and chatted while the rest of the staff filed in, most of them eyeing him and Emily with undisguised curiosity. Severus simply elected to survey the room from the lordly height atop the wardrobe in the corner. Albus and Minerva entered together and Minerva called everyone to order. 

"Good morning and welcome back. I trust that you are all comfortably settled and ready to begin another school year." The entire table was as quiet as an obedient classroom. "We do have two last minute staff changes to announce. Philomenus Umbridge was injured – again – whilst competing in the Annual Swedish Broom Race and will be some time in recuperating. Professor Remus Lupin has agreed to take his place until such time as he can return." Some of the staff smiled and nodded at him in a friendly fashion, but others simply darted a nervous glance at him and smelled of hate/fear. "Severus Snape has been called away unexpectedly. I am given to understand that it involves a longstanding dispute and… well, the less said the better. He is counting on our discretion." 

The Snape family had a reputation for hot tempers and grudges. Which or how many of them might be boiling over at the moment was open to question. In theory, Severus could be anywhere from England to Belize to New Zealand to South Africa  - if he weren't sitting on top of the wardrobe and licking a paw.

"My good friend, Reginald MacGuffin," Albus smiled, "has agreed to loan us one of his very best Senior Acquisitors with a senior journeyman status in Potions." At the word Acquisitor, some members of the staff shifted and Remus heard at least one mutter something about 'bloody mercenaries.' "Miss Emily Mayborne was one of Severus' most highly regarded students, and despite the demands of a hazardous profession, has managed to continue her education in that field."

Emily stood at a gesture from Albus, but Remus noticed that her small, polite smile did not reach her eyes. Her scent, if the objector had been able to smell it, was the smell of steel in a forge. Remus was very surprised, she did not look the type, nor had her rather sweet, earthy scent given him any hint that it might overlay such a temper. 

She sat down and the meeting began in earnest.

The new security arrangements were in place, and though everyone was uncomfortable with giants about, all were vastly more relieved that they were there. There were other arrangements and overtures being made to other denizens of the forest – principally the werewolves. Remus caught Emily eyeing him speculatively before turning her attention back to the proceedings. The teachers with the less hazardous submitted lesson plans first, which were approved with very little discussion.

Potions, Combative Magic, Offensive Flying, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and some of the more advanced courses in Charms and Transfiguration were considered hazardous. Those lesson plans came in for intense scrutiny. Defense against the Dark Arts was to be taught by a rotating roster of faculty. It appeared that word had got out that the job was cursed and now nobody wanted it. 

Most of the lesson plans were ratified easily, but when it came to be Remus' turn, there was heavy scrutiny and a great many – in his opinion – slyly phrased questions. Even McGonagall seemed taken aback at the tone. Albus was his usual serene self, but his scent betrayed an unusual annoyance. 

A strange ozone-like scent abruptly flared from Emily. "Pardon me, Professor Shand, but what exactly is your objection to this particular lesson?" 

The entire table looked at her in surprise, Shand – the Runes professor, a thin and sly-looking man  – bestowed a very patronizing smile upon her, "Now, Emily, I don't expect you to understand much about how the faculty decides…"

"Then explain it to me."

"Well, hypothetically, the situation that… the professor describes is ridiculously unlikely and…"

"How would you know?" Emily stood, and leaned on the table weight on her hands. "Have you ever been in the field as a combatant? An Auror? Acquisitor?"

"I fail to see…" 

"Yes, you do." With that, Emily turned her back, pulled up her hair and eased her robes back to reveal two pink scars the size of Sickles between her spine and shoulderblade. Remus felt a chill; those were puncture wounds. "I got these from a new breed of Quetzalcoatl in Southern Mexico. If I had done as you had advised, I'd have been gutted. I did it as Professor Lupin described and lived." 

The tense silence was broken as a black streak shot from the top of the wardrobe and landed in the center of the table, hissing and spitting a variety of feline curses first at Shand and then at Emily.

"Well it's no good yelling at me now. It's done." Emily looked around the table, "Now, I believe that I'm the last one to face the bench. Can we get on with it, please?"

The Potions lesson plans were given much scrutiny until Emily pointed out that these plans were from Professor Snape himself. Snape was under the table. Growling. A particularly stupid or obviously obstructionist question would bring a sound out of him that a banshee might envy. It amused Remus to watch the more obstructionist members of the faculty becoming more jumpy and twitchy with every yowl and growl.

Finally Emily said that if the faculty had any questions as to the appropriateness or technical accuracy of the lesson plans – which were, after all, Snape's - she would be happy to owl Snape wherever he was with their questions and objections. Failing that, she was sure that perhaps a visit from a Senior Master of Potions – such as Lorenzo Zaldivar – might allay their concerns.

Minerva was looking at the younger woman as if seeing her for the first time. "Further objections? Questions? No? Ratified. And," there was a note of undisguised relief in the older witch's voice, "you are all dismissed. Professors Shand, Gralvey, and Blenkinsop, a moment please."

Emily gathered her materials and swept from the room in a swirl of skirt and robe, Severus at her side with tail lashing and ears laid back. 

~

TBC


	11. Like Cats and Dogs: Chapter 11

Dear readers,

Hello and thank you again for all your feedback and crit! I really intended to work on 'Algolagnia' today, so naturally I wrote ten pages of 'Cats and Dogs' instead. My track record at divination makes Trelawney look like a winner!

MsInvisFem: Here is a little action for you!

Excessivelyperky: Oh, yes, there is definitely some exotic blood in Snape's makeup.  All Siamese are temperamental little autocrats, I had one that ran my life for seventeen years!

Rivanknight: I have a yahoogroup that will let you know whenever I update the Pensieve – I post my new stuff at FF.net and my site at the same time. That way you can also check on some of the other fic that I'm hosting, too. :)

Tina: Just wait until the next installment!

Alana Roseguard: Thank you! I've tried very hard not to fall into the Mary Sue trap, I'm very happy to have succeeded. :)

Griffon: Catnip… hmmm… evil grin 

Now, on with the tale, and please let me know what you think!

Sincerely,

Chaos

~

Like Cats and Dogs

Chapter 11

~

"Those dunderheads! Those prejudiced, ignorant, doctrinaire, degreed idiots! They haven't used their heads for anything but cracking walnuts since the day they graduated!"  
  


Severus agreed with every word, adding a fervent 'YOW!' when Emily paused for breath. She was doing quite a job of venting both their spleens. Felinese had its attractions, Severus had called Shand all manner of names and insulted his parentage for five generations, but hearing Emily exercise her excellent and varied vocabulary was soothing. 

"How the hell do you stand it? How can you even look at those self-satisfied, anal-retentive copyists! An original idea or innovative thought would blow their heads wide open!"

"Yow!" Like one of Longbottom's cauldrons. 

"Now I understand why you could be such a bastard, if I had to deal with those fatuous, smarmy thick-wits for ten months a year, I'd have my bits in a perpetual twist, too!"

"Y-" _Now just one bloody minute!_

"Now, that was a pre-existing condition, Professor." Lupin moved as quietly as a wolf and had apparently been listening for some time.

_Yes, caused initially by exposure to Gryffindors! _ The thought came out as hisses and spits. 

The werewolf's eyes glinted gold with amusement, but he said nothing. Severus felt his nose tickled by some scent and opened his mouth to sense it better.

"You're noticing more scents? You already had the most refined sense of smell I've ever known. I think you ought to know that some of your enhanced senses might well stay with you once you're back to human form." Lupin squatted and looked Severus right in the eye. "Part of you stays human in your animal form, but part of your human form will always be feline now." 

Severus digested this with some astonishment and wished that he had listened when this had come up in school! Severus knew his own talent had been latent - Minerva had offered him a chance to develop it when he was a fifth-year, but by then potions were his _raison d'etre_. 

Yet another thing to add to the list of  'should haves.' That list was about as long as it's opposite, 'should have never.'

With a wistful expression, Lupin extended a finger and gently stroked a spot between Severus' ears. For a second, Severus almost rubbed in return… but…

_LUPIN!_  With a yowl and a splay-clawed swat, Severus sent the werewolf backing off. Red-edged fury danced in his gaze and he took a step, only to hear a deep, rolling growl to one side. 

The Dog.

~

Awake and bored, he waited for Remus to return from the staff meeting, but as the sun marched across the sky, Sirius became concerned. As lunch approached, his appetite increased along with his curiosity, and Sirius went out the Border Collie sized door to see what was keeping Remus. The halls were still and quiet, but Sirius imagined that he could feel the anticipation in the air, a vibration in the ancient stones.

Tomorrow night the castle would be filled with students, a whole new class of first years would take their places with their new Houses. So it had been for a thousand years, and so he hoped wit would be for a thousand more.

The sound of someone spouting off caught his ear. It sounded like that Ravenclaw girl was in a taking and venting her displeasure. Obnoxious yows interspersed her rant, so it would seem that Snape was with her. It would appear that the staff meeting was out. 

He heard Remus' voice and hesitated. If Snape was anywhere in the vicinity… 

No. He was the Dog around here and that Cat had better watch his step. Sirius tried to curl his lip in a snarl and snorted in disgust as his tail wagged instead. 

_Bloody Dumbledore. Couldn't have stuck me with something dignified like an Alsatian or Wolfhound! No. Had to give me this… this!_

Rounding the corner into the gallery, Sirius saw Remus reach out a finger to stroke The Cat. To stroke Snape! 

At the swipe of claws and a yowl made Sirius see red. That bastard attacked Moony! The growl that rolled out of his chest felt like a wave. Snape's answering call sounded like an air raid siren.

"_Fons gelidus_!"

Whatever mayhem was intended vanished as searing cold blasted through Sirius. Whisp's yowl turned to something that sounded very much like 'Brrrr!'

Remus had his wand out and an expression like a gathering storm to match his scent. "Now look, you prats, Emily and I have had just about all the foolishness that any two people can stand. One more hiss or growl out of you two and you'll think I've dumped you off for a swim with the polar bears."

Emily muttered something about actually doing it and pity the poor bears.

He and Severus eyed each other, then turned their backs and attempted to ignore each other to death. There would be another time.

~

Remus sighed and thought about how he seemed to be doing a good bit of that lately. 

Emily nodded agreement and sighed, "Prats."

Against all expectation, Remus found himself liking this young woman. Granted, he had met her under the worst possible circumstances, but she was actually… nice. A warm, real, unstudied nice. Sirius gave him a sour eye, he could not scent as well as Remus, but he knew damn well that Remus had a peripheral attraction.

_Hmm. What will happen if I push this button? Let's find out._

"Professor… Emily, I don't think I'd care to take luncheon with the rest of the staff. Would you like to join me at the Three Broomsticks for sandwiches and butterbeer?"

"Throw in a bit of Rosemerta's omniberry trifle and you've got yourself a girl."

"FFFT! ROWWWWWWWL!" Severus' tail was bushed out to Christmas tree-like proportions and his back arched. 

Sirius added, "WROOF! WOOFWOOFWOOF!"

"Meet me in the Great Hall… say about twenty minutes?"

"Yooowwrrrr! Yooowwwrrrr!"

"WOOF! WOOFWOOFWOOFWROOF! WROOOF!"

"Make it thirty… Remus?"

"HOOOWWWWWWLLLLL!"

"MREOOOWRFFFTHSSSFT!"

"See you then, Emily."

~

As Lupin and Emily headed to their respective staircases, Severus stared at The Dog, who looked as shocked as Severus felt.

"Woof?"

"Meow?"

How inadequate for expressing his opinion on this twisted little event! Giving The Dog a look that he hoped was both promise and threat, Seveus went off after Miss Mayborne with a determined stride.

What was the girl thinking?

Was the girl thinking?

If she was thinking, what was the girl thinking with? 

While Severus had no idea of the specific arrangements between Emily Mayborne and Artemisia Malfoy, he was quite certain that they did not involve extracurricular activities with werewolves! He had heard… certain things about the two of them since graduation – quite outside their exceptional professional achievements. Emily was bisexual; Severus had known that since… well… _since_. Artemisia was – to all evidence and rumour - not. How they managed to accommodate Emily's desires and maintain an evidently healthy, loving, stable, and supportive relationship was really none of his business.

 For all Severus knew, Artemisia Malfoy had given her partner a 'hunting license' and a kiss goodbye at the Floo. 

Could Emily actually find Remus Lupin attractive? Severus paused, considering. Remus was looking significantly healthier lately, but even so, the strain of transformation was evident. It gave him a fragile, needy quality that seemed to bring out the nurturing instinct in women and men alike. 

_Not on my watch!_ Severus went stomping down the hall, mentally composing a devastating interdiction until he remembered that he couldn't talk!

When he reached his rooms, he could hear the shower running. 

Shower? For what reason did she need a shower? What was she doing to do that would take half an hour to accomplish? 

Laid out on the bed were fresh clothes – a pair of loose green cotton trousers and a long matching tunic in an Indian style. Why did she need to change? What was she doing? 

Leaping to the bed, Severus glared at the clothes. The werewolf was going on about scent? Severus would give him something to keep his nose busy!

Flinging himself on the soft green cotton Severus began to roll on it, kneading at it with his paws, rubbing the corners of his mouth and chin on the fabric. Slowly, his scent began to be worked into the cloth that already smelled of Emily. The warm, earthy scent of the woman was soon woven with a sharp musky, spicy scent must be his own.

Rolling to a standing position, he decided to make his stance a little clearer. He rolled on her pillows, and cheek-marked the bedposts, finally tunneling under the covers to roll and rub all over the bedclothes so that his scent would be all over her body. 

_There! Hah! _ He lay under the covers, tired, but very pleased with himself.

Until he realized that not only had he left his scent all over Emily's, but her scent was now all over him. 

He tunneled out of the covers, intent on a wash. Walking about smelling her all the time would drive him mad. Slithering out from under the covers, he dropped to the floor, and encountered a pair of knees. 

A pretty pair of knees. That smelled good. Attached to someone wearing only a bath towel that was wrapped sarong-style. 

_Oh… shite._

~

It was, outside of Missy is a jealous snit, the most flagrant case of  'Mine!Mine!Mine!' that Emily had ever seen. Black cat hair was everywhere, her pillows were trampled and the bedclothes rumpled. 

Emily was literally speechless. Unable to summon anything to say, she simply stared as a lump under the quilts tunneled to the edge and dropped to the floor in front of her.

Snape spent a very long time staring at her knees, his tail twitching madly.

Oh, this surpassed awkward! This was even worse than trying to forget that he… she… they had… almost… and she still… maybe he… 

The blush was so violent that she thought she was glowing; even the soles of her feet might be pink from this one! 

Slowly, Snape lifted his green eyes to Emily's, their gazes locked and Emily found herself counting her heartbeats. He was a cat, a stubborn, argumentative, stroppy cat! Even on two feet, the description fit him perfectly!

He was a stubborn, argumentative, stroppy cat who had as a man kissed her and touched her as no man ever had before or since. 

She was a fool. Someone should slap her. Missy would just have a fit. "I have to get dressed." It came out more tentatively than she intended and she gave herself a mental slap. Cat. Cat. Not man. Cat!

Snape nodded and left, tail still twitching furiously.

~

Remus smiled as Emily came up the stairs from the dungeons, frowning slightly, broom in hand. "Is that a Firebolt?"

Her preoccupied expression vanished in a grin of pride. "It is. The newest sport model for distance and agility," she handed it to him and he cradled it reverently. "We – Acquisitors, I mean – disguise them when we're in the field, but in truly wild areas, they come in very handy."

"I can imagine. It seems your job is a little more dangerous than some might believe." He spoke lightly, but Remus wanted to ask about those scars. Quetzalcoatls were fucking dangerous, only a circle of highly adept dark wizards could control the semi-sentient creatures. If someone was mucking about with a new breed, it spoke of both daring and possible future danger. 

"Contrary to the Ministry propaganda, we're not a bunch of glamourous little galleon-grubbers." The bitterness in her voice and the sharp hurt in her scent took him aback, "What we do is bloody dangerous, something the name-callers forget until they need Manticore skin, or a Maiden's Blood ruby from the caverns under Five Dragons Mountain, then they find us quick enough." 

"I'm sorry." He was. How often had he heard the names, the insults, the slurs that were routinely applied to 'MacGuffin's Army?' "I know how you must feel." And he did. Above all else, Remus understood that being different - and being perceived as a potential danger, as well – hurt. 

A warm smile bloomed on her face and lit her eyes, "Yes, I thought that you might, _fratello del lupo_."

Remus actually stammered. "I… ah… I…"

"Even if I hadn't heard the rumors of a werewolf professor leaving Hogwarts, I'd have guessed anyway," she reached up and touched a finger to his face, just next to his eye. "The golden eye color is unique to werewolves, as is the refraction of light. You trim your eyebrows, but they are probably very bushy close to the full moon. Your teeth look sharper than the average, with the canines slightly elongated." Dropping her hand, she took one of his in a gentle grip and lifted it. "The hair on the backs of your hands is fine, but thick, and I would bet that you've got quite a bit of it elsewhere." Her fingers traced the back of his hand, following a trail of hair to his pinky. "The nails are thicker than normal, but are translucent, curved slightly and have a high sheen."

Remus was speechless with astonishment. Normally people avoided touching werewolves at all, thinking that even touch might transmit the pathogen.

"I've worked with werefolk before, Remus. Even called them friends." Emily did not let go of his hand as her eyes scanned his face. "Did you think I was as bigoted as those fools in the meeting? That I would have all these stupid prejudices about someone I don't even know? There are good and bad folk in every group. I judge by actions, not names."

"It seems I've done a little judging of my own." Remus was chagrined. As an Acquisitor with a Malfoy for a mate, Emily must have had a gut-full of being judged. "I'm sorry." 

There was a very long pause and Remus began to wonder if he'd blown a possible friendship until Emily chuckled, "So, this means you're paying for lunch, then?"

Taking her arm, he escorted her to the doors, "Are you quite sure that you're a Ravenclaw?"  
  
"I've been with Missy for too long; Slytherin rubs off." She took her broom back from him at the top of the stairs, "I'll even fly us down." Remus let go of the Firebolt with a wistful expression that made her laugh. "Oh, I'll let you take her skydancing later, but surely you don't think I'll ride behind on my own broom!"

Flinging a leg over, she scooted forward to let Remus settle behind her. "No, Emily, I'd never think that you would."

~

Sirius was steamed. It wasn't that he blamed Remus for being attracted, Mayborne was pretty – not stunning, but a nice garden-variety pretty. Nor could he blame Remus for not wanting to eat with people who might be saying one thing, but whose scents belied their words. 

But they had left for lunch hours ago! 

It was two hours to sunset and no sign of either one! 

Letting himself out he made a round of the likely places that they might be. Classrooms. Workrooms. Library. Kitchen.

Nothing. 

Slinking down the stairs to the dungeon, he sniffed about for Remus' scent, finally going to far as to take the side corridor to Snape's rooms. 

Nothing. 

Sirius barked softly at the door.

"Meow?" Snape cautiously poked his head out.

Worry-smell. Emily-smell. Those were topmost, but the other scents sorting out the other scents that Whisp was giving off might befuddle even Moony. Snape came the rest of the way out and gave himself a shake that jingled the silver bell on his collar, then set off down the passage. 

Sirius followed, thinking that Remus' idea of calling him 'Balls' was a good one – and then nearly howling when he thought about the fact that he'd been looking at Whisp's bits!

Whisp darted occasional glances back at him, as though to make sure that Sirius was following  - or because he didn't trust Sirius behind him. 

They rechecked all the places that Sirius had thought of, and then went on to other places that were apparently well known to Snape. Sirius committed them to memory for future use.

Still no sign of Remus or the girl.

They ended up in one of the courtyards, where Snape leapt up on a fountain for a drink. Sirius just sat and panted, now beginning to worry on his own. What if something had happened to them? There were some many possible 'what ifs' that it was overwhelming to think of them! 

Snape lifted his head so suddenly that he nearly lost his balance and fell into the fountain.

Sirius snorted, that would have cheered him a good bit! At the mental picture of Mad, Wet Cat, he snorted some more until Snape slapped a paw to his nose.

_What the…! _

He was about to teach that Cat a lesson and no mistake!

"Meowr!" Snape pushed harder with the paw, ears swiveling like little radar dishes, locking on something…

Sirius perked his own ears. What was… 

Whisp was off like a shot! Into the gallery, down the corridor, into the main hall and out! Sirius didn't even think that Snape had used the stairs, and all Sirius could do was follow the speeding black blur across the lawns and hills toward the Quidditch pitch. That Cat could move!

There! There it was! Someone shouting and 'whoo-hoo'-ing high up in the air, rocketing around like an utter lunatic!

So intent was Sirius on the careening speck that he failed to notice that…"Merooowwwt! OOF!" … The Cat had stopped.

Sirius shook his head, ears flapping madly and picked himself off the grass. That Cat was a solid package!

Snape was getting to his feet, green eyes glinting with malevolence and back arching. 

Sirius lowered his head, baring his teeth. _Come on, then!_

Shrill whistling broke the silence, "Go, Lupin! Beat back those Bludgers, boys, and chuck that Quaffle here! Ring that bell! Another goal! Go, Puddlemere!"

The murderous stares devolved into incredulity as Severus and Sirius walked onto the pitch. Emily lay on the grass, cheering Remus as he took laughing bows and blew kisses to an imaginary crowd. 

"Now I know why you called it skydancing!" He circled in, and landed, still laughing as he dismounted. "What fun!"

"Just let me know when you want to borrow it and odds are that I'll let you."

Remus smiled and offered her a hand up, "Don't tempt me, or I'll be at your door every day." He pulled Emily's hand and she came rolling gracefully to her feet. 

Far too close to Moony, in Sirius' green-tinged opinion and apparently to close for Snape's taste, as well!

"I had a great time, Emmy." 

Emmy? He was calling her Emmy?!

"I did, too, Remus."

Whisp's tail did the bottle-brush imitation and his scent was pure…

JEALOUSY?! Severus was jealous? 

Sirius sat down hard - he was now seriously confused.

Emily moved her hand to take back her broom, her hand resting on Remus'. "We'll have to do it again."

"Yes." A light breeze ruffled the grass on the pitch and Sirius could smell an entirely instinctive pheromonal response. Remus bent his head slightly as Emily tilted hers up.

No. Oh, no. He and Moony had never really said anything but they both liked women, too, and oh no but part of him wanted Remus for _his_…

Emily turned her head and pressed her lips to Remus' cheek. "Thank you, Remus," she whispered. Remus smiled, the tension evaporated into the lengthening shadows and Sirius nearly fell over in relief. Snape's bushed tail fell as if someone had cut its strings and the Cat literally wobbled on his feet. 

"WOOF!" Enough of this. Sirius trotted forward and shoved between Remus and Emily, herding Remus away – all the while wagging his damned tail. Severus came stalking up, making annoyed noises and ostentatiously rubbing himself all over her calves.

"If you've no escort to the Governors' tea tomorrow, Emily… quit stepping on my feet, Toffee…"

"I'd be delighted, Remus. About… ouch! No biting! How about three-thirty? I have some fist-day lesson plans to go over in the morning."

"I'll… agh! Dammit, Dog! Are you trying to break my neck for me? I'll see you then."

"Pamiu! Get your teeth out of my pants leg! See you then, Remus, and good … stop that… night!"

~

"I never realized that you were the jealous type, Sirius." Remus called teasingly as he stepped out of the shower. 

"Woof!"

Wrapping a thick fluffy towel around his hips, he took up another one and began to rub himself dry. Emily had been quite accurate in guessing about the distribution of body hair, the cheeky thing. 

"Emily let me know that while she does not mind my attentions, she will not be following through. I made a very blatant offer, and she refused me very gently." Chivalrous was not usually a word applied to females, but Remus would apply it to Emily – he'd never had a pass turned aside so neatly.

A low whining grunt was Sirius' reply as he came into the bedroom and jumped on the bed with a defiant look. 

"Look, bonehead. If you'd made yourself clear before this, I wouldn't have made the pass in the first place." 

Sirius' big brown eyes managed to get even bigger and more soulful. 

"All right, all right! Maybe I should have guessed!" Remus tossed the towel onto a hook that grasped the cloth tightly. "I'll say this, though. She's firmly mated to that Malfoy of hers. They've been lovers since – if I'm doing the math right – they were both fifteen. Her 'Missy' is her world, and she misses her terribly." He snorted with amusement as he crossed the bedroom to the chest of drawers, "That's not even taking Severus' feelings into account. It's hard to make a pass at someone who's been scent-marked like that. He must have rolled in her clothes!"

With a canine shrug, Sirius shook his head so hard that his tags jingled. "Woof?"

"If you're asking why, I'm as much in the dark as you are, but what I scented from him was not a protective professor clucking over a talented chick." He hung the other towel over the back of a chair and rummaged for a pair of trolleys. "If I had to guess, I would say our buttoned up Potions Master and young Miss Mayborne had a moment that was NOT a detention - and neither of them have quite managed to let it go."

Sirius' face managed to convey disbelief  - and a little disappointment as Remus dug out a pair and pulled them on.

"Now, am I forgiven?"

"Humph."

"Oh, come on! If you weren't so assbackwards about talking…"

"Woof!"

"Okay. Fine. But when you're back on two feet, we're going to have a long talk, if I have to knock you down and tie you up to manage it!"

~

Emily changed as soon as they reached Snape's rooms. Back in her jersey and shorts, she inspected the tiny holes in the ribbon that trimmed the cuffs of her trousers. 

"There was no need for that!" She shook the clothing at Snape, now sitting on the bedside table and looking stern. "And quit looking at me as if you're about to give me detention! I knew what I was doing the whole time!"

"Yow myow mrip fft mrr now row meerow!"

"Reparo!" Folding the mended trousers over a hanger, she turned back to Snape, her hands fisted on her hips. "Look, I have not the first idea what you're trying to say, but let me make one thing perfectly clear to you. Not that it is any of your bloody business, but Missy and I have managed to find ways to keep our relationship healthy and happy for almost… for a very long time. One of those ways is that I never, ever bed any man that she has not approved of first. And I never will."

She held his gaze until he averted his eyes, ostensibly to wash his shoulder. "Mripyow," he muttered.

"If that's 'sorry,' you're damned right that it's due." Walking to her bookcase she perused the shelves. "Look, I know this is hard to understand, but I need you to think about this. I had to let him make that pass at me."  
  


"YOW!"

"Don't interrupt. If I had preempted the pass, he would have had to try again, the next time a little more insistently. He's a _man_-wolf, professor, think what that means." 

Emily knew what it meant, only because a female werewolf had very bluntly explained it to her. "You smell good, child. You smell happy, well-fed, healthy and ready to mate. Our kind respond to that more strongly than those who lack the wolf – bed one of us if you want, but make it on your own terms or learn the wolf from the inside out."

Emily had taken the words much to heart. 

"Remus has been told by Dumbledore, his Alpha, that students are off limits. While I am fairly certain that Remus has a he-mate, there has been no she-mate for a very long time. Whatever else he senses, the wolf in him can smell me, and I am not a student." The words sunk in and Snape looked dumbstruck. "I had to turn him down on my own terms, and to do that, I had to let him make the offer."

Snape's look was distinctly assessing, but he had relaxed his posture. When she had first come into the room, it looked as if someone had rammed a stick up his arse. Emily took it as progress. She pulled a book of the shelf, one of her very favorites, and headed for the couch.

 "I'm going to read for a bit, then turn in. I want to brew a few potions that you seem to use a lot of in class. At least the only thing that I have to worry about is that damned tea tomorrow." She paused in the doorway, "Join me? I think you'll like this one, it's by a cosmological arithmancy philosopher named Stephen Hawking."

"Mrrr?" Snape dashed by and took up a spot on the arm of the sofa.

Emily smiled as she settled in. "Mind me, now. No bossing about turning the pages."

~

TBC


	12. Like Cats and Dogs: Chapter 12

Dear Readers,

Thanks for all the feedback and MsInvisFem, thanks for the crit on the last chapter. :)

In this bit – 

Shit. 

Fan. 

Bad. 

Bad. 

Very, Very Bad.

Enjoy, and as always, please let me know what you think!

Sincerely,

Chaos

~

Like Cats and Dogs

Chapter 12

~

Severus sat on the worktable, observing Emily's work. It was very interesting to see how her technique had matured - she was steady and sure of herself, her hands quick and graceful, her approach measured. It was edifying to watch her on task. One never got a true sense of technique from writing alone.

Most people liked to think of Potions as a very one-size-fits-all discipline, but nothing could be further from the truth. Severus was considered an innovator in the field, willing to experiment with materiel and techniques that many would never bother to try. Emily was apparently delving the very origins of one of the first Magical Arts, employing methods buried by time and combining them with the most modern of innovations. 

It also pleased him no end that his rigid insistence on laboratory journaling had paid off – her notes were clear, meticulous and copious. 

Emily, in turn, was fascinated and scandalized by his private Restricted Section. Severus was deeply relieved that she did not attempt to open any of the volumes that were chained shut, or held in glass and silver coffers – it could have been messy. 

Emily brewed the basic burn remedies, deflating potions, counteragents and antidotes easily. He was very pleased when she managed a complicated Dreamless Sleep potion in combination with a timed-release narcotic analgesic. 

It was also quite something to watch her brew a personal stock of potions. Her extraction techniques were flawless! Even the simplest remedy was of interest to him – her private stock of ingredients included items from around the world, material that might only be known to village witch-doctors and shamans.  Salves, tonics, dry ingredients for poultices, tinctures, extracts, oils – she had become marvelously adept! 

Then again, with those scars, she'd probably had to learn on the fly. It appalled him to think of those girls – his students, for Merlin's sake! – facing down something like a Quetzalcoatl! Furthermore, Severus believed that Lucius knew nothing about it. News of his 'Princess' in a tangle with something like that would have had him in orbit! 

Finally, the last potion was bottled and the laboratory cleaned. Emily plucked a few bottles of essential oils from her stock, cut a small amount of beeswax, chose two bottles of oil and put them in the center of the worktable. Severus, who had been about to leave, came back for a closer look. What was she doing?

Water was heated in a cauldron to just short of boiling as she shaved the beeswax into thin slices and put them in a wide glass beaker. Setting the beaker in a wire frame, Emily carefully immersed two thirds of the beaker in the pot. When the wax was melted, Emily poured out a small measure of one light oil and the same of a heavier oil. With a quick hand, she added a drop of this, a drop of that and a few drops of the other to the oils and mixed them quickly into the soft wax.

_A salve or balm of some kind, but… oh…_

Sandalwood, jasmine, vanilla, cloves, vetiver, patchouli, and frankincense – all gently underlaid by the subtle scent of honey beeswax. For anyone with a refined sense of smell, the complexities of the scent would be alluring, not to mention arousing. 

Severus glared first at the salve and then at Emily. What was the little Ravenclaw chick up to now? 

Emily simply did the one thing that women had been doing to worry men since Lilith – she gave him the smile that Lisa di Antonio Maria di Noldo Gherardini del Giocondo had made famous.

~

Sirius rose and went to answer the call of nature. Remus was using the last day before the start of classes to indulge himself in a long lie-in. Tomorrow he would be awake at six in the morning, preparing for classes, taking breakfast at seven-thirty and teaching from nine o'clock. Classes ended at four in the afternoon, but a teacher was expected to be available to his students from four to six in his office. There would be papers to correct, lessons to plan, students to supervise, parents to deal with, problem children, and staff politics in full force. 

Let the man sleep! He'd be running short of it for the next ten months or however long it would take Umbridge to recover. Sirius roamed the grounds, not with anything in particular in mind, just savoring the last golden day of August as he had when he was a boy. He could smell autumn in the air, even if the leaves and grass were still lush and green. 

Sirius ambled back into their rooms to find Remus still snoring lightly and the animagus settled on the cool stone floor with a sigh. 

Carefully, he took out his feelings and examined them. Being a dog, his emotions were less complex, and sometimes that was helpful in sorting them out. For a long time, he had no emotions of any sort – good, bad or otherwise. Sirius had lived in a grey, flat world for twelve grinding years. Upon escape, there were only the thoughts of hunting Peter, protecting Harry and avenging James and Lily. Even now, his emotions were either as flat as a calm sea or whipping to hurricane force with very little in between.

He loved Moony. That was a given. He loved Moony as a part of the dearest memories of his life and the last link to that past. He loved Moony as an honest and true friend, someone who had mourned Sirius Black and welcomed him back to the land of the living. Most of all he loved Moony for things that he could not quite put name to.

In the few months that he had been with Remus, something had come to be that was not there before.

For the life of him, Sirius could not say what it was. Yes, he could still look at a pretty face, dream about a lushly female form. Hiding in the Yucatan - in guise as what Muggles called a 'beach bum' - he had been gratified to find that all manner and ages of women still considered him attractive. But even a parade of pretty bodies could not keep the sick greyness at bay for long. He felt nothing for them, not even enough to take one eager volunteer to bed and see if that could crack the not-feeling.

That state only abated with Harry's letters, and then with all the events that followed. But from the moment he stepped into Remus' cottage, the colors had begun to bleed back into his life. With them came emotions – sometimes so overwhelming that he had to become a dog just to stand under the weight of them. 

He could not say what had happened to add love and lust to friendship and affection, or if it had always been there. As boys and young men, Remus and Sirius had their share of mooncalf moments with and over the opposite sex, even some awkward experimentation between themselves, but nothing had ever come of it.

Though perhaps in the short time between leaving school and October 31, 1981 – there really had not been enough time for anything to develop. Voldemort was rising in power and it seemed that every week brought a fresh round of atrocities. James and Lily were in the forefront of that battle, as were Remus and Sirius - there had been precious little time for anything other than staying a step ahead of the Death Eaters.

Peter had betrayed more than James, Lily and Harry – he had betrayed countless people both Muggle and Wizard to their deaths.

All that Sirius knew was that an innocent little wrestle over a bag of crisps had ended up with Remus laying Sirius over the tottery kitchen table and vigorously shagging him into a higher state of being.

Remus was right, though. Of all the times they had done it, not once had they had sex in a bed. Sirius twitched as he also took stock of the fact that he had never told Remus that he loved him – not while Remus was awake to hear it. They kissed, touched, hugged, slept together, lay all over each other – but Remus was the only one who ever said, "I love you."

Oh, that hurt. That hurt big. 

Then along comes a pretty woman. A pretty, smart woman. One who had no stupid prejudices. One who, Remus told him with awe in his voice, had actually _touched_ him. Remus rode with his arms around her waist, sat hip to hip with her in a small booth in the Three Broomsticks – and she had not been afraid of him, or disgusted by him. 

It was no wonder that Remus reacted so strongly to her. As much as Sirius wanted to dislike Emily Mayborne, the fact that she treated Remus as she would anyone else raised her standing in his eyes – her mercenary profession, defense of Snape, and Malfoy lover notwithstanding.

But Sirius wanted Remus, not just for sex or a warm body to cuddle with, but for… keeps. For real. He needed to tell Moony that he loved him, they could work out the details later.

And as a dog, there was no way that Sirius could tell him!

His eyes squeezed shut and a little whine escaped him. 

And to be able to tell him meant that Sirius would have to go to Snape.

Sirius went back to his bed, laid down, sighed and closed his eyes. 

Sometimes, being a dog wasn't so easy after all. 

~

Remus awoke with the sun high in the sky and his stomach complaining about having slept through breakfast. His pleasant tiredness from the night before had translated into a deep, good sleep. Emily Mayborne was good company, and what she could do on that broom! 

He'd asked her to show some of her skills to his Combative Magics students and she'd agreed. Even better, they would be teaming up for some of their Dark Arts lessons - something that would make it immeasurably easier for him as werefolk were automatically regarded as being on the order of beasts. 

Some might not think anything of taunting him or worse while he was in human form, but only someone with a liking for pain would fuck about with an Acquisitor. 

Remus had once seen a bust-up between some Ministry types and 'Akkies' that had to be broken up by Aurors – and even the Aurors had looked a little ragged after. 

Still, yesterday had been… interesting. On several levels.

Remus rolled out of bed and headed for the loo, scratching himself in various places and yawning. 

First, the interesting fact that Sirius was stinking jealous. 

Remus knew that Sirius loved him – he could smell it – but Sirius could never say it, letting his actions speak for him instead. But jealousy? Remus never would have figured it. It was oddly… warming. 

For himself, Remus had known for a long time that he loved Sirius. From long before the clumsy fumblings of horny adolescents there had been something else that Remus – so used to rejection – had feared to examine too closely. 

Remus had mourned Sirius, even before Azkaban when Remus thought that Sirius had been the spy in their midst. To have him now was like having him return from the land of the dead, which he supposed that damned island actually was. Then he had lost Sirius again when he'd had to flee the dementors and England altogether. Remus resigned himself to isolation, keeping to his cottage on Loch Benevian.

The day that Padfoot appeared in a patch of sunlight to pick him up off the floor and tuck him into bed had been Heaven – or Albus Dumbledore - finally answering a prayer. 

_You never have to say it, Padfoot, just never leave me. _That had become his prayer every morning since.

The second interesting thing had been Severus' reaction. 

Like Sirius, Severus stank with jealousy. The normally aloof and remote Slytherin had always been of interest to Remus' nose – the spicy musk was as distinctive as a fingerprint – but when one added in Emmy's scent on top of the seething brew of Severus' emotional state…! Emily's clothing had been fragrant with Severus' scent as well, and if Severus' behavior had not been mate-guarding, then Remus had never seen it. 

Then there had been Emily herself. 

Remus admitted the attraction. She was not afraid of him - she even touched him! Even Madam Pomfrey always smelled slightly afraid when she'd had to tend him, but Emily's earthy scent never so much as veered close to uncertainty. Her contact with werefolk was extensive; apparently her firm had no qualms about hiring 'tainted' people. In fact, one of the Potions Masters whom Emily seemed to revere had done extensive work in developing the Wolfsbane potion.

To the man, Emily could possibly be a very good friend.

To the wolf inside the man, she smelled very good – in a very particular way. 

Remus growled under his breath and turned on the shower. Yes, he had made a pass at her, and yes, she had been receptive – yet she turned him aside. Emily was loyal to her she-mate and that was that. He'd take the almost-sisterly kiss on the cheek and the friendship and do so gratefully.

Then there was Sirius, his beautiful and lusty Sirius. Good lord! How he loved to touch him, lick him, bite him and make him squeal…

Remus' anatomy agreed lustily, standing at attention and looking around for someone with whom to share the enthusiasm. 

With a sigh, Remus dropped his shorts and got into the shower, thinking that a soapy hand and imagination were a sorely inadequate solution to the problem. If something didn't happen soon, it was going to be Remus who would go begging to Severus!

~

What did one wear to a Governors' Tea? Emily wondered.

She would wear her summer dress robes to the Sorting Feast tonight, but so far as the tea this afternoon, she was clueless.

"Too warm for velvet, too early for silk. Can't wear my field clothing." She turned to Snape, again enthroned upon the nightstand, who had been wearing what she thought of  as a feline version of his 'detention face' all morning. "I'm faculty. How does faculty dress? Oh, why am I asking you? You're not only male, you're a cat!"

Turning back to the wardrobe, she nibbled her lower lip as she perused the clothing within. With everything that Missy had packed, there had to be something to wear in here!

Pulling out her black professors' robe, she hung it on the door. Plain black, but of superfine-grade worsted wool that would do for all but winter wear, Emily had added her 'tinsel' – the loops of braided and colored leather that Acquisitors had adopted as an informal set of insignia. To anyone who knew the code, Emily was an newly raised Acquisitor Senior and Invested Member, and that she had been in the firm for six years – three of those years as an Apprentice, three as a Junior. A loop inside the first one disclosed her specialty as Potions and proclaimed her as in a closed partnership. 

The faculty normally did not wear such, but it wasn't like she was a real professor. 

Well, then, she'd not dress like one, either. 

A high-necked _ao dai_ in a deep blue matte silk with long, tight sleeves and embroidered with white plum blossoms went up next to the robe. Hair sticks decorated with dancing mother-of-pearl cranes went in the pocket of the black silk trousers. 

And it looked like Snape wanted to give her a year of detentions. What a face!

"I'm not a real professor, why should I dress like one? They'll all know that I'm a fake anyway." If anything that simply made him sterner. "Look, I have to start getting ready, this farce goes off at three and it's already one o'clock!"

Snape stared at her, looked at the clock, then back to Emily. "Merrrow? Now?"

"Yes, now. I have to bathe, get clean, do my hair and face and get dressed. If I don't start now, I'll never be ready on time!" She scooped up a bag full of scrubs, hair treatments, masques and lotions. "Just because I'm not frilly femme every day doesn't mean that I'm not every now and then."

Snape was still staring at her as if she'd grown another head as she shut the bathroom door behind her.

~

Well. 

Severus simply sat and blinked at the closed bathroom door, listening to the water run.

Well.

'Frilly femme?' Two hours to get ready for _tea_? Exotic garb and desecration of professorial garments? A fake professor? Who cared what those pompous fatheads thought? They had as little to do with the day to day running of the school as a frog in a French restaurant had to do with his legs!

Merlin and Taliesin! What next?

Just what was she planning to do with that sinful perfume? That was gilding the lily if he had ever heard of it!

"Ahhhhhhh…" Came the happy sound through the bathroom door.

And oh if that didn't just make him twitch! Why did she have to make such… distracting sounds? 

And why was his hearing so good that he could hear Emily now doing something that probably had nothing to do with bathing? Why could he hear smothered moans and soft gasps over the running water?

Why wasn't he getting the hell out of here instead of sitting and listening?

Why did he close his eyes and imagine that it was himself causing her to make those sounds?  Picturing his hands on her skin, his mouth feasting upon her delights? Wanting the need that she was trying to alleviate to be for him?

Severus was aware of a low moaning, but it was coming from him as he heard the muffled, bitten-back cry of her release.

Then he was bolting through the bedroom, through the den and out the door - racing down the hallway pursued by the desire for something that he could never, ever have.

~

Remus smoothed his robes nervously as he waited for Emily to answer his knock. His best robes were a little exotic, coming from his last employer, but he hoped that she would approve. Emily struck him as someone singularly practical and no-nonsense, he didn't want her to think he was a primping twit like Gilderoy Lockheart. 

Saleh bin Abbahs bin Haami Al-Sabah had been most grateful for Remus' timely removal of an _efreet _from his London flat and had outfitted him lavishly in addition to paying him. 

The _bisht_ – or outer robe - was of the softest black wool and liberally trimmed in wide bands of intricate gold embroidery on every edge of fabric. The _dishdasha_ – which Remus thought of as a very long shirt – was thick, soft, snowy cotton as were the trousers called _sirwal_. A fine belt in red, black and gold – which Al-Sabah had taken for the colors of Remus bin John bin Lupin Al-Gryffindor's familial House – bound the waist of the _bisht_ and held his belt pouch and wand. From Sirius' approving barks and wagging tail, Remus knew that he looked quite good.

Emily opened the door and Remus felt a grin spreading on his face. 

Well. He wasn't the only one sporting exotic plumage, at least. Emily's tunic-dress was an Asian design with flowers in white over dark blue silk, with a high neck and long sleeves. The normally pulled-back chestnut hair was in an elaborate swirl of braids held together with decorated sticks. 

"We're going to scandalize everyone there," Emily shook her head mock-ruefully as she picked up her robe. 

Remus took the robe from her and held it for her to put on, "Won't be anything new. They'll whisper in corners, but won't say anything to our faces – not to an Acquisitor _and_ a werewolf."

"Toffee opted out?" She shrugged the robe and its decorative trim onto her shoulders with a smile of thanks.

"He could and did, the lucky bastard." Sirius had been belly-up in his dog bed, snoring lightly as Remus left.

"Professor Snape took himself elsewhere when I was in the bath. He's had his tail in a twist at me all morning, really. I'm worried about him." A small slash appeared between her eyebrows as she took Remus' arm. "Do you think that he's all right? Not ailing?"

With Severus, it's always been hard to tell what he was thinking or how he was feeling unless he was in a complete rage," Remus sighed as Emily shut the door behind them. "Honestly, I'm the last person to ask. Severus and I have a history and to say that I am not one of his favorite people is a massive understatement. But he smelled fine last I saw him."

_He smelled as musky as any male about to go out and start marking his territory, but no, nothing physically wrong at all._

They walked up the stairs in silence, Remus simply enjoying the novel sensation on having a pretty girl on his arm. It almost made him feel like a normal wizard. Well, normal if he couldn't smell that itchy scent of curiosity rising through her citrus perfume.

"If I could ask…?" 

"Anything."

"Your… he-mate, the one we call Toffee? Why do he and Professor Snape hate each other so, and why does the professor so dislike you?"

Remus nearly tripped on the hem of his _bisht._ "Perceptive, Emmy, very perceptive. I'd suspect you of having a werewolf's nose. Yes, the one called Toffee… and he hates that name, too… is my he-mate. But as for the story with that, even if I have a part in it, only Severus and S-Toffee can tell you. It would not be right for me to tell their tale." Then he grinned, fair for fair. "Now perhaps you'll answer me one; why does Severus regard you as his private and personal Emily? Yesterday you had his scent all over you."

The reaction was so far from what he expected that Remus nearly took back the question. Emily turned a brilliant deep pink and… cringed? Embarrassment, anger and desire roiled in her scent like a potion about to boil over. Emily stopped his retraction with an upraised hand.

"No. You answered mine. I'll fair up." Taking a deep breath, she settled her back to the stone wall. "I was eighteen. My birthday is on the night of the winter solstice, and my friends decided to have a little party for me on one of the empty floors…"

He got the whole story and was fascinated. Old magic was very demanding – it took no half measures. Passion it required and passion it got. If Emily had been frightened, it had been afterward and only because the passion of a grown man had been completely out of her experience.

"He's always been… never less than proper with me since then. We've had an extensive correspondence – he's had good advice for me, and I think that he liked to know about the places I went and what I was doing."

"He must hold you in very high regard, then." Remus slipped her hand back into the crook of his arm and they resumed walking. He had been right – Severus and Emily had a moment – one that was left unresolved. Even on memory alone, the pheromones were making him dizzy – better to not be alone with her for the time being.

Approaching the conservatory, they could hear a murmur of conversation and paused. 

"Wishing we didn't have to do this?" Emily whispered.

"Rather pinch McGonagall's bottom," Remus winked. "Come on. Steely-eyed Akkie. Dangerous werewolf. We can handle a lot of old farts in frock coats and eating petits fours."

As they entered the room, the conversation stopped. The conservatory was filled with faculty in sober robes, older men in the aforementioned frock coats and their politely pastel-swathed wives. Minerva McGonagall looked ceilingward for patience, then came forward with a tight smile and even tighter voice.

"The two newest additions to our faculty, ladies and gentlemen. Professor Remus John Lupin – who is filling in for Professor Umbridge - and Professor Emily Rowan Mayborne – who will be substituting for Professor Snape."

The silence with which this pronouncement met was deafening. Emily gave the room at large a very small smile and a bare nod of her head. Remus followed suit and both moved for the table laden with the house elves' best efforts. People got out of their way with looks of either fright or loathing. As soon as they passed, Remus heard mutters about hiring dark creatures and mercenaries – and that was the best of what he heard. 

Emily smiled at him, "Shall I pour? The Lapsang Souchong is excellent." With a light tone, she continued, "You know, almost everyone in this room has had call to use the services of my firm, and every one of them acts as if I were a Knockturn Alley streetwalker. However, like any whore, I have my pride." With quick, precise movements, Emily poured his tea and handed it to him - cupping her hands around his and looking at him in a way that made Remus feel very warm. "If any one of them is as rude to you, they'll find a whole load of dirty laundry turned out in as public an embarrassing a fashion as I can manage."

Remus smiled down at her in return, "I'll just look longingly at their necks and lick my teeth."

"McGonagall. Making this way." Emily's eyes darted as she poured her own cup. "Stroll with me to the bougainvillea."

From then on, it was a chase constrained by the walls of the room and their desire not to spill their tea. Finally, they were cornered – McGonagall to the left, a bank of trellis-trained clemastis to their backs and a trio of well-upholstered, petit-fours-eating Governors to their right.

"… though really I don't see why we should suffer that type teaching here and corrupting our children – such people do have their places and should keep well to them. I heard the woman is not only a mercenary, but sexually deviant as well…"

Remus nearly cringed from the scent the man was giving off – not only deviant, but of a type that any self-respecting wolf would kill out of hand – even as he opened his mouth to issue a stinging rebuke. Emily's temper was flaring white-hot and he wanted to preempt any blast that might get her arrested.

Neither of them made it that far.

"Well, Ostrow, since 'that woman' is undoubtedly Emily Mayborne, and since Emily Mayborne is my own daughter's mate, it would seem to follow that you are calling my Artemisia a sexual deviant by extension. Is that not so?" If the room had fallen silent when Remus and Emily first entered, it froze solid at the light French-accented voice. 

As if by Appartition, a slender, blonde figure in a chic royal purple suit appeared between Emily and Remus and the group of now whey-faced men. Tall, with her pale gold hair and light blue eyes, Narcissa LeStrange-Malfoy smelled like nothing so much as a vixen about to take out a particularly fat and stupid bird.

"N-Narcissa… h-h-how good to s-see you." Eyes rolling wildly, Ostrow searched the room. "Is Lu-Lucius here?"

"No, he's away on business. Otherwise you'd be picking your fat arse out of the syringa reticulata now."  The sweet smile on the doll-perfect face could have iced every cup of tea in the room. "I, on the other hand, merely require an apology at least as public as the insult."

"I won't have it!" Emily's temper reached critical mass, but she never raised her voice. "It would be a false apology and from a hypocrite at that. He'd not be sorry that he said it, only that he was heard saying it by the wrong people. I'd rather settle this in the traditional way." She reached for her wand and the room all but exploded. 

~

Severus stared at the fountain and simply tried not to feel much of anything. 

It was a mistake to keep up a correspondence with her. It was a bigger mistake to see her as something other than a student. It was a huge mistake to see her as a woman – an intelligent, desirable, sexual woman. Better to see her as the little Ravenclaw chick, to keep her in his minds as the infuriating child she had been than to know her as an adult. 

Perhaps he had been wrong to want to see some of the world though her eyes, to know how the sky felt to his pretty raven's wings. 

To see the way that Lupin had looked at Emily, to see the way that she had returned the regard was scalding. When Severus thought of her wearing that perfume for the werewolf – and maybe damned little else – part of him just went irrational with jealousy. 

"Merrrrrowwwwwl!" he yowled. _MINE!_

The memory of her in his arms that winter night, pressing against him, kissing him with passion and fire… Severus knew that he should have taken her when she was willing. He should have stamped himself so deeply into her being that she'd never thought to look at another male!

With a hiss he thought of those other males, his feline impulses so overriding his human consciousness that they appeared as mangy toms to his mind's eye. He'd rip their ears! He'd castrate them with a swipe of his claws! Touching his She! He'd teach them better!

With a low rowl he turned his rear-end to the base of the fountain, his tail did a shaking little dance and the air was filled with a pungent scent. 

It was time to tell those Toms and that Dog and the Wolf that this Place and the She were his!

~

Sirius lifted his nose to the wind and snarled. 

More cat-stink. Snape was on a tear, marking territory and lots of it. 

Sirius raised his leg and left a message of his own. 

_Fuck you, Cat._

He ran with his nose to the ground, tracking The Cat. Fucking Cat. Jealous, nasty, mean Cat. Catch the Cat and piss all over him, that's what he was going to do. Teach that Cat not to stink up the place with musk.

So it went. Every spot The Cat marked, Sirius remarked, chasing him all over the grounds until…

… the little bastard had marked right over Sirius' mark!

And higher up, too! What did he do, stand on a chair?

Remarking as he went, Sirius stalked The Cat. The Cat was going to be very sorry. 

Finally, they had worked their way around the whole school and Severus' scent led right to…

_Oh, you nasty, greasy little bastard!_

At the base of Gryffindor tower, in a space between the rose bushes, was a blot of black with a green collar. He was looking right at Sirius with his tail raised, and stinking, reeking of testosterone and jealousy. 

Sirius took a step forward, growling, warning…

The black tail jiggled and a stench of territorial tomcat hit Sirius' nose like a truncheon. 

Launching himself at the fleeing cat-arse there was only one thought in the forefront of his canine-mind.

The Cat would pay!

~

Argus Filch was mightily annoyed. 

Fine thing for him to be tending to right before the students came back! Bloody animagi who forgot that animal nature was just that and unless actively controlled could turn into…

… well, to be blunt, if you would…

… a pissing match.

Mopping, scouring and deodorizing he'd chased the pair of them three times over the school. When he got a grip on Severus he'd give him a good root in the tail! The other animagi would get his nose rubbed in his own mess after he tossed them both into the coldest water he could find.

"Not enough trouble one two legs! No!" Filch stumped down the hall with his mop, muttering to the air. "Got to go and mix up more trouble and drop themselves in it to the neck!"

"Reeeeoooowwwrowr!"

"Woofwoofwoofwoofwoof!"

"Oh bloody buggering baboons no!" Argus could smell disaster in the wind as surely as if Hagrid was spreading sheep manure on the flowerbeds. Dropping the mop and bucket, the caretaker turned and ran with all speed toward the sounds of approaching mayhem.

Up stairs, down hallways, into four-ways and down the same stairs the chase went. Finally, Argus saw Mrs. Norris chasing after the two hell-spawn and stumbled into a gasping run. 

No. Not the Conservatory. No. Oh, Angels and Ministers of Grace…

The Angels and Ministers of Grace were either off having a wee dram or watching in horrified fascination right along with Argus Filch. 

The doors of the Conservatory stood open and all the upper-crusty types were standing about like a lot of tea-drinking sheep, eyes open wide and staring at something Argus could not see. The staff to a one was wearing looks of horrified fascination, staring in the same direction and unable to see the onrushing pandemonium.

Down the middle of the room was a long table set with eleventy-ump different types of tea. Set with flowers, white damask linen, and champagne-grape swagged candelabra, the table boasted enough in the way of pastries, sweets, tea-cakes and other dainties to make every maiden aunt in Britain coo. Towers of tea cups and desert plates were placed near each flavor of tea in magically-balanced edifices.

Severus, fleeing headlong through the doors dove under the table, the hem of the ivory linen barely stirring as he passed beneath it. 

But the dog…

Even after six years of the Weasley twins – the red-headed spawn of Loki, in Filch's opinion , no matter who their parents were – never had he seen destructive mayhem on such a scale. Even the Slytherin-Gryffindor wars were nothing to compare to it. 

Argus Filch plummeted to his knees in awe beside Mrs. Norris.

The dog did not attempt to go under the table.

Nor did he attempt to go around it.

Instead, with a graceful leap, the brown and white animal landed atop the table, and raced his prey to the other end. 

Food and dishes flew. Towers of teacups, saucers and plates hit the floor with symphonic crashes accented by the metallic clanging of platters and silverware. Cream and sugar blasted into the air in arcs and whorls of white. Teapots made acrobatic flights into the air, spewing their contents in swirls of amber. The candelabras went flying, their grape garlands smashed to mush.

Filch saw it all in slow motion, knowing it to be an omen for the year to come. As if in prayer, he bowed his head and reverently offered two words to the Gods of Chaos.

"Oh, Shit."

~


	13. Like Cats and Dogs: Chapter 13

Dear Readers;

Thanks as always for your feedback and crit. It really makes my day to know that you are enjoying the tale. 

Now get on, sit down, and strap in. This is where a wild ride begins. 

In the last bit – Mayhem.

In this bit – Confusion.

Beware. Beware. 

Please let me know what you think! 

Sincerely,

Chaos

~

Like Cats and Dogs

Chapter 13

"ROWWWLMWROWWWWWW!" The cat shot out from under the wreckage of the table to find the dog airborne and all manner of stuff raining down all around him.

"WOOFWOOFWOOFWOOF!" The dog, sensing his quarry in reach, cornered in a room with only one exit, dove after the cat. 

The cat, by now flying on instincts and adrenalin alone, headed for the plants that conservatory offered as shelter. Rebecca Sprout, normally the very picture of Hufflepuff equanimity, swore so badly that the Governor standing next to her dropped his biscuit into his tea. 

Buddleia. Diascia. Heliotrope. Lantana.

Crash. Bang. Smash. Thud.

Flowers, leaves and dirt everywhere.

Governors and ladies either diving to intercept the insane beasts or fleeing in comic fear.

Staff paralyzed, wands drawn, unable to get a fix on the four-footed fracas. 

Minerva McGonagall and Narcissa Malfoy, trying to restore order, levitating people and plants out of their way. 

Emily Mayborne and Remus Lupin, clinging to each other's forearms, blushing so hard that it was actually painful. With their eyes squinched shut, they resembled little children trying to pretend that the boggle wasn't under their bed.

Emily's lips moving, saying silently, repeatedly, "This is not happening, this is not happening, this is not…"

Remus Lupin so horribly, completely mortified that he can almost feel his wolf-self clamping a tail over his genitalia.

Three things happen all at once:

Minerva body-checks the dog, sending both of them into a gooey puddle of spilt chocolate ganache. 

With the reflexes that kept her on the Slytherin Quidditch team as Keeper for four years, Narcissa dives into the path of the speeding cat, catching him like a Quaffle. In the process, landing both of them on the remains of an enormous three-tiered chocolate-buttercream frosted cake.

One of the Governors, standing on a chair and trying to make head or tail of what the hell is going on here, draws his wand and calls out, "Deluvium!" Which sends a wall of water racing through the room, sweeping upset people, upset tea service and upset plants before it.

All this occurs as Filch kneels in the doorway, unable to look – as if averting his gaze from the face of a god.

Immediately behind Argus Filch, arrived just in time to see all of this is Lucius Malfoy - impeccably clad in black morning coat, pinstriped trousers, and as wide-eyed as a first-year.

Immediately behind Lucius, with blue eyes twinkling through an attempt to look suitably stern comes Albus Dumbledore, who – due to age – was somewhat slower than Lucius in making his dash up the hallway to see just what in the hell was going on.

Both men stand in the doorway, silent and staring, searching for something – anything to say. The scene of utter bedlam before them blunts even Lucius' well-honed gift for the cutting phrase.

Narcissa - chic suit ruined, her every-hair-in-place coiffure a wreck - gets to her feet with a black cat held firmly by the scruff of its neck and grins, "Lucius, my darling, you've missed the party!"

~

In grim silence Severus was carried from the room, wrapped in a length of linen so that Emily's clothing did not get stained as well as sopping, wringing wet. The woman had been so heartily humiliated that she fled before Albus had offered a drying charm, unable to look at anyone in the room. 

The bollocking that she and Lupin had endured from Minerva had been legendary, utterly undeserved, and solely the fault of both himself and Black.  Minerva knew it, but had no other choice than to publicly rip Emily and Lupin up one side and down the other for not keeping their familiars under control. 

Now as Emily stormed into the dungeons, her wet robes and clothing making dull flapping sounds, Severus began to worry. Just as he had never seen her humiliated to the verge of tears, he had also never seen her this angry. His sense of smell was improving, or at least his use of it was. All the biochemical signals imperceptible to him in his human form were beginning to make sense to him now.

Rage, for instance, smelled the way that a punch in the nose felt. Humiliation was a hot metal scent like a cauldron allowed to boil dry. Wrath was a thunderstorm gathering on the horizon.

The only thing that Severus could take comfort in was the look on The Dog's face when Lupin snapped a leash on him and all but dragged him from the room. Whatever awaited Severus, it could not be worse than what Lupin had in mind for The Dog.

Once the door shut behind them, Severus expected the equivalent of a human Howler.

Silence. Complete, ringing silence. 

Emily left him hanging in midair as she tore off her sodden robe and threw it at the wall. 

Still not a word.

She undid the buttons on the sleeves and the front closures of her tunic, stripped it off and hurled it with even more force to plop atop her discarded robe.

All of this occurred in silence broken only by the sound of her breathing. 

Severus would have appreciated the sight of Emily's chest rising and falling, her breasts constrained by the lacy fabric of her brassiere at any other time. However, he was coming to think that it might be the last sight he would have in this life.

Sandals and pants followed, striking the wall and falling limply to the floor. 

Severus closed his eyes. 

She was going to kill him. Naked. 

**Renowned Potions Master Meets A Painful and Untimely Demise at the Hands of a Wet, Naked, and Seriously Brassed-Off Witch.**

At least it was a unique obituary. He'd wager that none of his guild had ever done that one. 

"_Accio_ Bloody Fucking Idiot."

Summoning his dignity, Severus opened his eyes and used every bit of will to keep them on Emily's face.

Failed miserably.

She was fucking magnificent. Wet, mostly naked, her hair a mess, her skin still radiant with the remainder of her epic blush, and absolutely bloody furious with his humble self – it was the most arousing sight Severus had ever seen. If he had been on two legs, he'd…

What the hell was she doing? 

Floating behind Emily, he followed her into the bath where she flipped her wand at the tub, turning the taps on to full blast. 

"Since chocolate contains an alkaloid that your feline body cannot process, sir, I will happily assist you in removing every last bit of it." 

From where had she learned that tone of silky menace? Severus wriggled wildly in his wrappings, searching vainly for a clawhold. 

"_Torpeo_."

His body went as limp as Emily's wet robe, but Severus had a fine view of her knicker-clad arse as she bent to dip her wrist in the bathwater. Padding the floor with a towel and flipping another over her shoulder, she came to pluck him out of the air and unwrap him.

"Now, let's just see who marks whom around here, hmm?"

"Meeeeeeooooowt!" _No! Put me down this instant!_

"Oh, no. You don't get a say, my dear professor. If I could do it, Slytherin's house points would be so deep in negative numbers that your grandchildren would do well to see five points by their seventh year." Emily flipped the taps off and lowered him into the blood-warm water. "You've been stamping around here like I'm your property, marking my things, spraying your temperamental testosterone all over the bloody school." Reaching out of his field of vision, her brought her hand back in with a bottle of pale pink stuff and flipped the cap up. "Now, it's my turn."

"Nooooooooooooowwwwrrr!" The stuff dripped down his spine in a rush of fruity, floral girly goo and she began to lather him up.

_Bitch. You vengeful little wench. This is really beneath you, Miss Mayborne. I thought better of you than this. I am very disap… whatwhatwhat! Leave my tail alone! Do NOT wash…! Really! Have you no shame at all? What are you smirking at? The expression does not become you in the least and… MISS MAYBORNE! That is hardly a proper observation to make to a senior staff member as well as… HEY! THAT TICKLES! STOP THAT! No! __Nononono! Oh, please! __Please stop! Heeeeelp!… Bitch! You think that this is funny, do you? I'll… I'll… oh just you wait, Emmy Mayborne!_

With a final dousing of warm water, Emily lifted him and wrapped him in a towel. Severus' nose cringed at the extravagantly feminine scent that was now all over him. She toweled him dry in an utterly humiliating way that was made all the more so by the wicked smile on her face. 

_Oh, I will get even, you just bet your pretty pink panties on that! If I were on two legs, you would not dare to treat me this way! You disrespectful, insolent, spoiled little brat! I should have taken your wand away and spanked you with it! I should have kissed you stupid and shagged you senseless! I should have given you detention every day!_

"_Recreo._"

The lassitude drained from his body and he struggled from the towel. Pulling the tatters of his dignity about him, Severus went to hide under the bed.

~

Remus started to open his mouth several times, but nothing came out. 

Once he simply stopped and put his head in his hands for a few minutes. 

Sirius' tail was clamped tight between his legs and his head bowed so that he had the tendency to walk into things if Remus did not tug the leash.

Remus was mad enough to let him. 

The worst part of all of this had been to watch Remus and Emily take the scalding dressing-down that should have rightfully been visited upon himself and Whisp. There had actually been tears of terminal embarrassment in Mayborne's eyes as she snatched Snape and fled before Albus could cast a charm to set her clothing back to rights. 

Sirius just hoped that he could face Remus' wrath. He could not remember the last time he'd seen Moony this upset. Maybe Sirius was going to literally be in a doghouse, as they were heading to a courtyard near their rooms.

Remus removed his belt, outer robe and the _dishdasha_, folding and laying them on a stone bench, then sat to remove his boots, his socks and roll the cuffs of the white _sirwal_ above his knees.

Sirius was mystified. This was punishment? He could look at half-naked Remus all day.

Taking up his wand, Remus gave a stern flick and a washtub popped into being. "_Aqualgidus_." Water splashed into the basin as Moony summoned soap, brushes and towels. 

Sirius shivered and gave Moony a pathetic, pleading look. Remus' brows drew together and for a moment the angry wolf-smell of him was overwhelming. 

With the air of a man going to his own hanging, Sirius walked up to the tub and dipped in a paw and shivered again. But as his lover/friend had taken a brutal scolding, Sirius swallowed his objections – not that barked objections would get him far – and got into the tub before Remus put him there instead. 

_Oooh, Moony! _

If Sirius' dog-jaw had been constructed for it, his teeth would have been chattering!

Remus silently washed away all of the stuff that was mashed into Sirius' coat, deliberately hitting every ticklish spot as he went. Sirius' left leg paddled wildly, splashing water everywhere, and by the time Moony rinsed him down with another arctic deluge, Sirius was more sorry than he had ever been in his life. 

The metal comb reiterated all the ticklish spots and by when it was all over, Sirius was whining his deep and earnest repentance. 

"Fine. Sorry works, but dammit S-Toffee! You should know better! I – oh never bloody mind. It's all been said before and I really don't care to say it again." With a flip of his wand, Remus banished the tub and accoutrements of torture. "I've got to have meals and meetings with those people, so does Emily, and as if being a mercenary and a dark-spawned beast aren't enough, we now have uncontrollable familiars! Maybe Albus should just find someone else to take up for Umbridge – I'm doing more harm than good."

The tone of Moony's voice was so bitter, his scent so flat and defeated, that Sirius was stunned. How the hell should he respond to this? Remus was the optimist, Sirius the cynic – but how could Remus believe something so completely cockeyed?

"Professors Lupin and Mayborne, report to the Governor's boardroom in fifteen minutes." A man's voice spoke in carefully neutral tones over the address system. 

Remus sighed, picking up his sandals and draping his robes over one arm. "And it appears that a good few someones agree with me. Let's go, I need to change."

~

Emily looked up from putting on her graphorn hide boots to see that Professor Snape had come out from under the bed. 

"Now I see the advantages of having house elves. If you did that in our apartment you'd be covered with dust-bunnies." Missy was going to be pissed; she'd done all that packing for nothing. Emily stood and reached for her coat, pulling on in a swirl of black. "I figure if I'm going down, it's going to be in flames. They can give me the sack, but I'm damned if I'll be intimidated. I'm an Acquisistor - proud as sin and twice as mean."

She was well aware of the intimidation factor in an Acquisitor's clothing and was going to use it to the hilt; otherwise she was just little Ravenclaw Emily with the glasses and brown hair. The coat and boots were black, as was the black knit cotton pullover. The khaki trousers showed a well-toned thigh under the cloth and her wand was prominently displayed, hanging from her belt loop. 

Snape simply eyed her and then looked at the floor. 

"You don't have to say it. You damned near drowned in your own testosterone and had to piss off the dog – so to speak." Emily smirked and Snape flattened his ears. "I wish I knew the whole story between the two of you. I asked Remus, but he said it was your tale to tell."

"Mrrr."

"Be that as it may, you'll no doubt have your rooms back after this little meeting." She picked up her hat and settled it over her carefully braided hair. "I hope you'll continue to write to me. I've… found much to value in our correspondence." There was a great deal more that Emily wanted to say, but ultimately felt that he would not want to hear it. If Professor Snape needed to be proper with her, she would return the courtesy. "Don't want to be late to my own execution. Good-bye, sir."

It took all her will not to look back as she left the rooms and shut the door behind her. At least out of all of this, Emily felt that she'd had one wish fulfilled - albeit in a half-assed way. 

She had gotten to put her hands _all_ over Severus Snape. 

~

If the Governors and staff were expecting two chastened people to appear before them – they were getting far from what they expected. When Minerva opened the boardroom doors to admit Remus Lupin and Emily Mayborne, there were not two penitent and contrite professors worried for their jobs waiting humbly in the hall. There was an Acquisitor in full field dress from hat to boots and a werewolf in a set of dark blue robes that made him look rather sinister, but very elegant. Emily wore pureblood hauteur like a second skin and Remus's golden eyes looked molten.

With a gentlemanly courtesy, Remus offered his arm to Emily and swept them both into the room, Minerva's look of warning unheeded. Pointedly declining the chairs set for them in the break of the U-shaped table, they stood as if they had nothing better to do. 

Lucius Malfoy stood and favored them with a slight bow. Whatever he was up to, the Silver Serpent was working an agenda of his own. Ostrow had resigned and all but run from the school and Narcissa Malfoy – suit and coiffure repaired - now sat in his place, but Narcissa often ran her own agenda right under that of her husband's. 

Emily and Remus returned the bow millimeter for millimeter.

Lucius' smile was icy as he spoke, "I find myself in a very odd position, Professors. The Governors of Hogwarts are almost evenly split on firing you both. Several of your colleagues have spoken of you in only the most vituperative terms and demanded that you be removed immediately from your positions in this school and from the demesnes as well. I will make the minutes of our discussion available to you, or to your solicitors, should you feel it appropriate."

Several of the governors and the usual suspects among the staff paled and shifted. Minerva thought it would serve them right to be exposed for what they were. For all they sang a song of tolerance in public, they were some of the nastiest bigots when behind closed doors. 

Taking his seat and leaning back with all of the considerable arrogance a Malfoy could muster, Lucius continued, "I also find myself agreeing with Professor Dumbledore's assessment of you both as competent professionals and have expressed my distress at the prejudicial attitudes of my fellows concerning the affliction of lupinism. After all, it's not as if anyone goes looking for a werewolf to bite them, yet they seem to be deeply concerned that this 'taint' is somehow a danger." Looking from Emily to Remus and back again, he asked. "I am under the impression that Wolfsbane potion permits a degree of relief from the more… bloody aspects of the illness?"

Lucius Malfoy doing his best philanthropic-pillar-of-the-community bit. Minerva tried not to gag – she felt she might bring up a hairball in the middle of the table if she did.

"To a degree, yes," Emily replied. "While the potion, developed by Master Piero Dorato di Sabatini of the University del Calderone does not prevent the physical change, it depresses the wolf-mind to a degree that human faculties can operate."

"And you know this how?" one Governor replied testily. 

"I have worked extensively with Master Sabatini. My confidentiality clause prohibits any other disclosures." Emily paused and tilted her head at the fool. "You may, however, feel free to contact the good Master. I am very certain that he will assure you at length and in depth as to my qualifications."

Albus chuckled and Minerva bit back a smile at the ripple of unease that swept the room. To say that Piero di Sabatini did not suffer fools gladly was an understatement. One of the greatest minds in the potions field, he was a master not only of potions but of herbology and alchemy. Minerva thought that the Italian master was what Severus wanted to be when he grew up. Severus could not be said to revere much of anyone or anything, but Minerva thought that his pantheon might well be composed of Albus Dumbledore and Piero Sabatini.

The Serpent smiled again. "I have no doubts, Madam, as to your ability. However, I am given to understand that brewing this potion is often considered a Masterwork. I would not have you overextend yourself."

There was a subtle sparring tone under the words. Half the wizarding world knew that Lucius and his daughter's mate did not get along. Lucius was a bully and always had been - if he could not get his way with charm and wile, he had no compunctions about using other methods. Emily hated bullies, and according to gossip, the first and last time the pair had been at crossed wands – whether by luck or skill on Emily's part, or Lucius' underestimating his opponent - Lucius had taken a thrashing.

If Lucius Malfoy did not harbor spite toward young Emily – for that and several other things – Minerva would eat her hat.

"I am quite capable of brewing whatever potions may be required during my employment here." Emily's tone was flat, but the words were an outright challenge.

Mouth twisting in that hateful not-sneer that masqueraded as a wry smile, Lucius began to reply, but subsided at a look from Narcissa.

"We are only concerned that such a complicated and demanding potion would tax you to a dangerous extent," Narcissa's voice was compelling, trained mezzo-soprano. "Severus Snape is a Master of over a decade's standing and this is a major undertaking even for him. You are very well-trained, but even if all you lack is a formal credential, this is still out of your experience." Narcissa turned her gaze to Dumbledore. "I do not dispute Professor Mayborne's skill in Potions, but I have concerns as to her experience. If you would permit her to contact Master Sabatini and ask his guidance in this matter, then I will offer no objections."

There was a game afoot, and from Lucius' expression – or lack thereof – it was not the one that he expected. 

Albus nodded, "Indeed. I am certain that Severus would say the same thing, were he here."

Narcissa nodded in return, taking up the reins of the Board as if she had spent her life in the saddle. Lucius watched his wife with a bemused smile as she summoned a small pair of green wire-rimmed spectacles and a sheaf of parchments. "Now, Professor Lupin. This potion enables you keep your reason against the pathogen in it's contagion stage, is that correct?"

"Yes, Madam," Remus replied.

"Forgive me, but I must ask; should the Wolfsbane be unavailable, how will you safeguard the occupants of this school and of Hogsmeade? I am given to understand that werewolf form is stronger by some magnitude than that of the equivalent man."

Remus smile was grim, "Indeed , Madam. In lupine form, I am significantly stronger, but not so strong as to be able to punch through three feet of solid rock. The oldest dungeons held all manner of dangerous beings, they can serve to do so again."

"Should it come to that, Remus, I have a timed release sleeping potion that can keep you out for as long as thirty-six hours." The young woman rested a hand on the Remus' arm. "I will not have you protect everyone else only to harm yourself."

"I have enough Wolfsbane from my last Transformation to get me past the next full moon. I can give you that much."

"All settled? Let's have the vote, then." Narcissa looked around the table, "Come, come! I expect that at least some of you will vote the strength of your convictions? There's nothing in the bylaws that says they cannot stay. Now, all in favor of the removal as Emily Mayborne as substitute for Severus Snape stand and call your vote…"

In the end, both Emily and Remus retained their jobs by a significant measure. Some of those who had inveighed against them in private caved with the two standing right in front of them. Lucius and Narcissa voted in favor, but Lucius got his dig in about keeping a firm hand with their familiars.

If Lucius knew the real story of what was going on - Minerva pinched her lips to stifle the wicked smile she felt coming - he'd just have a cat. 

~

It was a lovely evening.

Lucius sat in his study, with all the windows open to catch the evening breeze. Slouched in his favorite chair – the one Narcissa refused to allow in any other room of the house – he contemplated his lady wife with some amusement and a little annoyance. Narcissa lounged on the black leather couch, looking as hoyden in private as she was proper in public. 

Lucius once again thanked the spirit of his long-dead sire for having some forethought as to what his son might desire in a wife when he had arranged the match. 

"Que tracez-vous, ma jolie fleur?" Lucius drawled, "Et vous pourriez m'avoir dit à ce sujet à l'avance."

Almost a thousand years since what was known in the family histories as 'the Crossing,' the 'white French' families of Malfoy, Rosier, LeStrange, Poitier, Aglion, Hainault, Vautour, and Guignard still spoke French in private.

"Ah, mais mon seigneur et mari, j'ai eu besoin de vous pour sembler étonnant." Narcissa stretched, catlike, and smiled at him. 

Lucius returned the smile, letting his eyes delight on her silk-clad legs. Muggles called the silk tubes 'stalkings' and the shoes were 'high-heels.' 

"It would seem I succeeded against all expectations, Ma Dame Qui Doit être Obéie."

She threw a pillow at him. "Mordez-moi!"

"Comme ma dame souhaite, ainsi j'obéissez." Lucius came out of his chair in a rush. Fighting his way to the sofa against a barrage of pillows, he pounced the temptress and began to do his best to comply with her earlier command. 

Narcissa squealed. 

And bit back. 

Before she tore his waistcoat and shirt open in a hail of buttons. 

Before he undid the buttons on her skirt and blouse with his teeth.

Before they were shedding the remainder of their clothing, kissing and touching each other as feverishly as newlyweds.

She straddled him, steadying herself with one slender hand on his chest as she took him. 

Even after almost twenty-five years, perhaps because of them, Lucius loved his wife. He might take a pretty boy or girl to toy with now and then, but oh good lord none could ever match his Narcissa for the total package of looks and intelligence. 

He loved the color her skin flooded with when she rode him like this, and he loved to watch her take her pleasure. With a roll of his hips, he met her, encouraging her with his fingers, pulling her down by her hair for kisses that left both their mouths swollen. 

Narcissa's eyes closed, her mouth falling open in a cry of delight that made Lucius groan in sympathy, bucking into her so hard that her knees left the floor. He struggled to keep is eyes open, to watch her even though his own orgasm was winding tight in his spine, pulling everything into that skin-too-tight demonic need to thrust and she yes yes like that she needed it like that the tight little ripples of her pleasure merging, clenching, oh beautiful and…

"Now… now oh Lucius I… Oh! Oh! Please!" The last word was a wail as she chased after that last little push and he gave it to her, lost in the heat that was making him buck, his hands around her slender waist and so damn… fucking… good! He was a heartbeat behind her, holding her tight as his need took over and he was lost in the rushing, thrusting release.

There were definite advantages to having the children out of the house. Lying naked, sweaty and smiling on the floor of the study after screaming, loud, brain-melting sex was one of them. Narcissa lay sprawled on him, her head tucked under his chin, eyes closed and contented. Lucius could not have moved if someone had come in, pointed a wand at him and threatened him with an Unforgivable. 

Trailing a hand down one arm, Lucius took her hand and brought it to his lips. "Le plus doux des fleurs, ma dame de tout le plaisir, je t'aime."

In turn, Narcissa drew his hand to her lips, feathering small kisses across the knuckles. "Mon tigre blanc charmant, vous êtes le plus cher à mon coeur. Je t'aime, mon mari."

He did not realize until much later that she had not, in fact, answered his question.

~

Severus had been in the middle of his bed, trying to commit to memory as much of Emily's scent as he could - well, as much as he could over the girly-goo scent that she had inflicted on him – when she came bursting through the door and made a running leap onto his bed. 

She wasn't fired and neither was Remus and bloody Lucius needed an arse-kicking for even suggesting that she couldn't handle the job but Narcissa stepped in and made the whole board and those stupid bastards who somehow stole professors' robes shut up and march and she could so brew Wolfsbane she'd write to Piero anyway and she wasn't sacked and she didn't know whether or not to be happy about that but you should have seen their faces and I have to write to Missy do you want something to eat?

Damn it! What was Lucius doing back on the Board? What was Narcissa doing on the Board? Wait a second! Wolfsbane? Emily was planning to brew Wolfsbane? Well of course she is, you idiot, where else is Lupin going to get it? And Piero? As in Master Piero di Sabatini? Just a moment. Piero? Since when was a journeywoman on a first name basis a senior master? What the hell was going on around here? Piero?!

"Mierow?" 

~

**_To: Artemisia Veronique-Jolie LeStrange-Malfoy_**

**_      The Rose Building on Vertic Alley at LeFay  _**

**_      Maisonette 6; Fourth Floor_**

**_      London_**

****

**_From: Emily Rowan Mayborne_**

**_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_**

**_Hogsmeade_**

****

**_Dear Missy,_**

****

**_Hello, my love. I miss you terribly! Are you well? Do you miss me? _**

****

**_You were right about needing the extra bedding, not only against the dampness but… well, I can't really explain it to you; you'll have to see it. Honestly, it makes the Bed of Ware look modest! Nine feet wide, Seven and a half feet long. Enough green velvet in the bed curtains to swath an opera house. The damned thing weighs a ton or I should hope to kiss a troll. Every inch of it has carving or marquetry or inlay and the canopy is big enough for a castle gate! I think it's Florentine work and possibly early Renaissance. It reminds me of the bed we had at the University. I swear, love, it's big enough for a Quidditch pitch! Either our buttoned-up Professor Snape has a great deal of company or an edifice complex. It is sinfully comfortable, though. I look forward to your thoughts on the matter._**

****

**_It has been an eventful time for me, let me tell you. If you harbored any thoughts that being a teacher was as non-political as you could get, guess again…_**

****

Curled up on the sofa, Artemisia read the three-page letter with fascination and trepidation. Her father in the same square mile as her Emmy, that was enough to make her very nervous. With her mother in proximity, though, it would moderate his behavior – but only to an extent. Lucius Malfoy hated to be balked in anything, and Artemisia and Emmy had done it with regularity since they were fifteen. 

The conduct of the Board was no surprise, but she was taken aback at the conduct of certain professors. 

She was also unaware that Snape had a familiar – she knew about Polaris the owl, but not about Pamiu the tomcat. 

It also appeared that Emily was making a friend. Missy was rather proud of that, it was not easy for her mate to do so - Emily was terminally shy in certain areas. Remus was a very nice man, a professor and a… werewolf. 

Missy burst out laughing. If it wasn't for Emmy's odd taste in companions they'd never have been together, but sometimes her taste in men was a little strange. 

Still, Missy promised herself a good look at this nice fellow. If Emily was going to be at Hogwarts for a significant period of time, she'd need a safe bed-friend for when Artemisia couldn't be there. Perhaps it was time to issue another 'hunting license' – Emily would never ask, but Missy knew. 

The last one had been, what, over a year ago? Egypt? Artemisia clucked her tongue; Emmy was slacking. 

**_Sweeting;_**

****

**_I miss you madly and can't wait for next weekend! Will you meet me in Hogsmeade? I can just Floo up to the Three Broomsticks._**

****

**_As for the Bed, I do look forward to putting it to good use. I can't imagine Snape – ahem! – hosting home games. Speaking of Snape, any word on where he is or when he'll get back? Any word at all for that matter? If it's a family dispute, it could run for weeks! I don't know how familiar you are with his family, but they make us Malfoys look placid and sweet-natured! _**

****

**_If it's a dust-up with his g'grandmother Eleanora, we might get him back in one piece. Whether or not that piece would be breathing is open to question._**

****

**_Now, tell me all about this Remus Lupin. Is he handsome? Kisses well? You didn't say. _**

****

**_If you could manage to talk to Drake, I'd appreciate it. I know that he's angry with me – or us – but I've not had a response to any of my owls since he started school. Just tell him…_**

****

**_You know what to tell him._**

****

**_I love you, my darling. Write and tell me about your first week on the firing line._**

****

**_Hugs and kisses,_**

**_(and a few more naughty things)_**

**_Your loving Missy_**

~

Just for equality's sake, Emily knocked on Remus' door. 

"Modern witch, aren't we?" he grinned and let her in. "How are you doing? You left so fast…"

Toffee looked at her and slunk out of the room, tail between legs. 

"I was… Remus, I have never known that blushing could hurt. I wanted to just fall through the floor." Even now her face heated. Just when you thought that you could not be more embarrassed, something came along and just flattened you.

"Don't do that. You'll ruin your… is that Arab dress?" Remus shook his head, still smiling. "You're going to give Minerva McGonagall fits. Most of the faculty has very definite ideas about the solemn dignity and propriety of professorial demeanor."

"Well, then they better get a professor in my place. I'm not going to pretend that I'm something I'm not." Like hell she'd parade around in Masters robes when she hadn't earned the wearing. "But yes, it is Arab dress. Missy and I spent some time on an assignment in the Rub al-Khali, mostly in Ubar." The gold embroidered spice-brown silk dress was a gift from Farah Al-Sabah – who had felt that it was heartlessly plain. 

"I'll go change into my _bisht_, give me a moment."

As she waited, Emily looked around Remus' den. The furniture was old a mix of stuff from the school attics, the portraits on the wall generic enough to know that they were not his. The only things that seemed to be his was a bookcase as tall as she was and the width of her spread arms and a homey-looking braided rug on the floor.  The books in the case were diverse, covering subjects from ancient Babylonian spells and charms to… 'Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance?'

There was a cough behind her and Emily turned, blushing. "Sorry. Some people snoop bathroom cabinets. I snoop bookshelves."

Remus chuckled, a nice warm sound to Emily's ear. "Well, you are a Ravenclaw after all!"

He did look quite exotic in his Arab robes, the gold in the embroidery on the _bisht_ setting of the gold in his eyes. The faintly lupine cast of his features made him quite striking, with even his hair seeming to echo a wolf's coloration. 

Remus' nose twitched, and for a moment he looked… hungry. "We'd best be getting to the Hall." He offered his arm, a gentlemanly wolf, and smiled at her.

_My, what big teeth you have, ProfessorLupin. _

Emily slapped the stray thought away as she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm.

~

_I can't be alone with her. Not if she's going to smell like that. To hell with perfume, she doesn't need it._

They strolled toward the Great Hall, chatting idly, Remus using the time to clear his head. "Tell me about your mate, Emmy."

_Safe subject. She has a mate. If she talks about her, I'll remember that. And Malfoys do_ not _like to share!_

"Missy?" Emily smiled and her scent turned… melty, like caramel over a cinnamon bun. "She's… everything to me. We've been together for so long. We had a trine for a time, but Susan felt that she needed something else. It was amicable, we're all friends, but Susan's so busy going back and forth between London and Bangkok that we hardly see each other."

_A… trine? Three…? Oh… my._

"Lucius doesn't care for what we do, or what we've done with our lives. My family had fits when they found out, but I think it was more about being an Acquisitor than anything else." A frown ghosted across her forehead, "Or maybe it's because Missy looks so much like her father that it's scary. They see they face and hear the name, and they can't see anything but Lucius."

Now that would be a burden. Looks aside, Lucius was an evil, scheming bastard. Oddly enough, Remus had little trouble with Draco, though the boy was far too advanced in the Dark Arts for Remus to be comfortable. Now with Lucius playing _noblesse oblige_, Remus was wary. Werefolk were classed as beings, but treated as beasts. It would be easy for the charismatic and powerful Lucius to unite those often damaged souls behind him. 

"How did you become Acquisitors? It seems odd that – forgive me – a pair of pureblood princesses would even consider it." It did seem odd. The Maybornes had given trouble to the Romans, whereas the Malfoys had been in the pay of Rome – or anyone else with money and power. The family had an uncanny ability to pick a winning side. "Was the training very difficult?"

"Yes. Oh, yes. All Acquisitors spend the first year – all year - in classes designed to really hone our talents. We live in student housing, and are only allowed to use our student stipends for spending money. We learn Muggle skills, in the field we often have to pass for Muggle, so we learn to drive automobiles, negotiate Muggle bureaucracy and travel methods." Emily suddenly giggled, "We even learn to cook! Oh, what Missy did to the Christmas goose our first year!"

Remus listened to the trials and travails of a pair of purebloods navigating Muggle life and had to laugh. The account of Missy and Emmy on an 'arrow plane' was hilarious, especially the part about Artemisia calling the in-flight bar service 'the anesthesia cart' and asking for the 'vodka flavored one, please.'

They took their seats still laughing, ignoring the stares of their colleagues. Albus was twinkling at them, as he always did, but Minerva looked about ready to ask for the anesthesia cart herself. 

"I envy you Emily. All the places you've been, everything that you've seen." He felt wistful, even though he had know since earliest childhood that travel outside of Britain was prohibited for werewolves. Even inside Britain, the Ministry required notification for every overnight trip, whatever the phase of the moon. To break those rules was to risk confinement in an institution for the rest of one's life.

Emily laid a hand on his, curling her fingers tight. "If you wish it, if you really want to travel, find me in London after Umbridge comes back. I can think of three places where you would be welcome in a heartbeat. Oh, look! Here they come!" 

The older students came filing in and filled in their tables. He saw Harry's grin clear across the room and waved in return – when had he gotten to looking so grown up? Hermione was wearing a prefect's badge and looked a little harassed, her hair seeming to frizz with ire. Ron gave him a nervous smile, but Fred and George grinned when they caught his eye and applauded. Others stared with animosity, but they were blessedly few. After Remus left Hogwarts the last time, he'd been caught in a blizzard of owls from a number of his former students, begging him to come back or asking to drop by. 

He heard a soft group howling from the Slytherin table – and glanced over to see a good many smiles and thumbs up. Riding herd on that lot would give any Dark Arts teacher grey hairs – their overriding moral was 'Don't get caught,' while ethics were limited to 'Do unto others, but only if it can't be traced back to you.' Come to think of it, quite a few of them were in his Combative Magics class this year – add more grey hairs.

Young Draco had sprouted over the summer as well, and like Hermione, wore a prefect's badge next to his House crest. The boy was staring wide-eyed at himself and Emily, Remus waved and got a nod in return. The boy's attention was riveted on Emily.

The gaze was cut short by the arrival of the first years, the wide-eyed little ones gazing about in awe as they were escorted into the Hall by Aurors in their black robes, and two half-giants who had to duck in order to fit thought the doors.

Remus was as excited as a first year himself, the memory of that day was one of the best of his life – though he did not belive that he could possibly have been so very young!

Minerva brought out the stool and the Sorting Hat, the Muggle-borns in the crowd of children catching the excitement from the Wizarding-born and then gaping in astonishment as the Hat began to sing.

_A thousand years have passed_

_Since first I first sang my song_

_Many are the witches and wizards_

_Who have before you gone_

_An old hat, a shabby hat_

_You will surely say_

_But I am Hogwarts' Sorting Hat_

_And this is your Sorting Day_

_So some sit down and try me on_

_Have no fear of me_

_Though there are things inside your heads_

_That only I can see_

_Perhaps in Gryffindor you shall grow_

_With the true and brave and strong_

_Or in wise and learned Ravenclaw _

_With the quick-witted you'll belong_

_Maybe in stolid, loyal Hufflepuff_

_Will you take your rest_

_Perchance in cunning Slytherin_

_Will you fit the best_

_So come along _

_And put me on_

_You may give your trust, you see_

_For of all the hats in all the land_

_There's no smarter hat than me!_

Emily clapped in pure delight, too enchanted to be jaded. 

Minerva began to call the roll, "Catherine Holland!"

The little brunette girl with her hair in pigtails came shyly up the stairs and too a seat on the stool. The hat came past her eyes, and moved. "Hmmm. Ah, yes, very good mind here. Not a shirker, no! Modest, caring. Good bit of backbone, too."

Emily whispered, "Hufflepuff."

"HUFFLEPUFF!" 

Catherine went off to her table, blushing at the applause and welcomes of her new House. 

"Donald MacLachalan!"

And so it went. Remus and Emily tried to guess the House before the Hat called it out. Remus managed to pick all the Gryffindors and most of the Hufflepuffs, but only got half of the Ravenclaws and Slytherins. Emily had a keen eye for Ravenclaw and Slytherin, but only managed to predict half of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. 

If the celebration following was more subdued than in years past, there was good reason. Dumbledore gave the usual warnings about the third floor and the Dark Forest, Filch made his dour appearance, and then the feast began. 

The students attacked the food as if they were werewolves themselves. 

Remus could see three heads of hair pressed together over at the Gryffindor table – black, red and brown. Occasional looks were darted at the high table, and Remus would bet his last knut that they were speculating on Severus' absence. 

The meal ended with the prefects leading their new charges back to the dormitories. The staff took their leave, getting ready for the start of classes in the morning. Remus walked Emily back to her rooms, and was surprised to find Draco Malfoy waiting in the hallway.

"Emmy? Is that… I mean, how?" the boy laughed, enfolding Emily in a tentative hug. The boy had put on a growth spurt, though still whippet-thin, he was close to being as tall as Emily. "Where's Professor Snape? Is Missy with you? Is she angry with me? I've sent owls, but she never writes back. Are you still together? Are you teaching really Potions? Are you still an Akkie?"

"Drake! I thought that was you! Look at you!" Emily pushed the boy back and ran her fingers through his hair. "You've gotten so tall! And so handsome!" The boy turned a brilliant, glowing pink and wriggled like a pup. "Yes, I'm still an Acquisitor, still with Missy, teaching Potions until Snape can… return. What do you mean you sent owls? We never got them. Didn't you get ours?"

"No. Never. Not one." Draco's face was suddenly bitter, but it passed so fast that Remus almost doubted he'd seen it. Only the scent of the boy's heart-hurt convinced him otherwise. "Look, I have the Talk with the newbies. Can I find you later?"

"The morning's going to be a nightmare. I have an orientation as acting Head of Slytherin, and then I have classes all day. Make it tomorrow after classes, either in Sn… my office or my rooms." An expression of pure mischief crossed her face, "That is, if you're still speaking to me by then."

"I've just found you again, you madwoman. Why would I not speak to you?" With a rib-creaking hug and a kiss on Emily's cheek, Draco took his leave. "I'll see you tomorrow. Good night, Em – Professor Mayborne, Professor Lupin."

When the boy was gone and the halls were quiet but for Peeves – freshly awake and boisterous with adolescent energy  - Remus was unable to restrain himself. 

"All right, Miss Mayborne. What mischief are you about? Be quick about it, girl, or I'll have ten points from Ravenclaw."

Emily's rude raspberry rivaled Peeves' best. "For me to know and everyone else to live with, Master Big Bad Wolf!"

He stopped them on the landing above her rooms. "Master Big Bad Wolf, is it? You cheeky thing!" he almost growled, slipping an arm around her waist before he could think about it. "That must make you Little Red Riding Hood, then."

Oh, good. His hand fit just right around her waist, resting where her hips began their gentle curve.

Oh, bad. She moved closer, looking up into his eyes, her scent warm, welcoming and unafraid.

"A bit of advice. Master Big Bad Wolf – don't bite off more than you can chew." With that, Emmy went quickly on tiptoes to press a kiss right on his silly, gaping mouth. Then she whisked off down the stairs, leaving him staring and utterly speechless.

It was shaping up to be an interesting year.

~


	14. Like Cats and Dogs: Chapter 14

Dear Readers:

Thank you for all the time you took to review! I'm glad that you are still enjoying the tale, too. :)

In the last bit – Confusion.

In this bit – Meeting challenges. New teacher trauma. Volume issues.

Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Sincerely,

Chaos

~

Like Cats and Dogs

Chapter 14

~

Emily Mayborne, for all her considerable intelligence, seemed to be unable to protect herself from herself.  Severus regretted not going to the Sorting Feast, it was quite evident that Miss Mayborne would need a chaperone, or fall prey to the werewolf. 

Intellectually Severus knew that those werefolk who were bitten before the onset of puberty matured with a very strong mating drive – as would any wolf in the wild. The pathogen altered the genetic structure very thoroughly, enhancing the developing body's sense of smell and taste, even hearing quite beyond what it could to an adult. Remus was responding to a healthy, receptive female at a very basic biochemical level.

Emily was responding to an increased output of the same biochemical components. Her mate was unavailable, she was tense, in an unfamiliar situation. As Severus well knew from his own experience, sex was not only greatly enjoyable, but also an excellent sedative and tension reliever. As Lucius had taught him, there was little in the way of tension, stress, irritability or just plain old stroppy temper that a good hard shag couldn't cure. 

With all the factors in place, there was only one conclusion.

Severus slept across the bedroom doorway. 

In the morning, he awoke at his customary time. Severus was so attuned to the school year that even now, just before the clock struck five, he was wide awake. 

Slipping out the door, he made for his usual spot and took care of his morning needs. The acrid smell of cleaning solution stung his nose – showing that Filch had been very busy. He'd have to think of a way to make it up to the old man. It was embarrassing to be so caught up in one's animal nature.

Severus was so busy ruminating that when Filch caught him up, he gave a surprised, "Meerowp!" 

Filch was wearing the face that Severus remembered from his own student days, the one usually employed for mucking out dungeons for forays into the Dark Forest. 

"Well, laddie, it seems you've not outgrown your gift for mayhem after all. I was up half the night in Gryffindor tower. Can you guess why?"

_Oh, I am in big trouble…_

"Every fireplace, every stove in the tower, all of them liberally anointed with tomcat piss." Filch gave him a solid shake. "It's as bad that time you and Evan Rosier ground up all that stinkweed and put it in a hollow Yule log! You'd be in detention with me for a month, were you on two legs, me boyo. That Crookshanks of Miss Granger's had better not catch you, either. Now, you are going to owe me – terms when you're two-footing it again, but if I catch you jigglin' your tail anywhere but the green grass, I'll be treating you like any other moggy. Got me?"

Severus felt his fur flatten tight to his body in utter embarrassment, made worse by Filch's chuckle as the man set him down.  

"My Mam used to say that the man were but the boy grown tall. Seems she was right enough. Off with you, I'll be seeing young Professor Mayborne about some potions tonight."

Once back in his rooms, Severus was annoyed to find that the girl was still in bed, curled up in the blankets and looking unlikely to wake any time soon.

That would not do. It was five-thirty in the morning – and he owed Miss Mayborne a bit of payback.

"Yow!" 

The blanket-bundle did not stir.

"Myow!"

No.

"MEEEOWOWOWOWROW!"

"Shushup!" A pillow whipped with speed and accuracy made him leap into the air – cat reflexes were really amazing. 

Severus began the next part of the plan. Leaping lightly to the foot of the bed, he padded to where Emily had pulled her head under the covers and gone back to sleep.  

He walked across her head.

Once.

Twice. 

"AHHGH!" She came thrashing up from the blankets and swore at him, hurled another pillow, then lay back down.

A very tough case. Drastic measures were called for. 

Severus walked into the bathroom, jumped up on the sink and held his nose to the cold water tap until it ached. 

Racing back into the bedroom and onto the bed, he found his target. 

Severus pushed a cold, wet nose to the sleep-warm flesh right between Emily Mayborne's shoulder blades. 

"GYAHBLOODYFUCKINGHELLYOUBASTARD!" She shot out of the bed like a cork popping out of a bottle, taking the sheet with her.

Severus simply stepped into the freshly vacant warm spot and curled up, ignoring the tirade directed at him by the witch. Laying his tail over his cold nose, he sighed and dropped off to sleep for a bit. One of the wonderful things about being in feline form was how well he was sleeping lately. No nightmares came to carry him off into darkness, depositing him at dawn in a bed of sweaty sheets, leaving him to wonder if he screamed in the night.

His cat-dreams could be disturbing, though. Several of them had been very confusing, and he was not certain about what they might mean. Severus was used to the contents of his own head – his nightmares were of the things he had done in Voldemort's service, observing his younger self taking the fast track to hell, right along with his friends and their mentor, Lucius Malfoy. Every charge of atrocity leveled at the Death Eaters and even some that had never been spoken of; he had been a direct participant.

Really, Dumbledore's biggest challenge had been to keep twenty-year-old Severus alive and sane once he had him – something Severus still occasionally hated the old man for doing. He Evan and Charles once liked to joke that at the rate they were going, they'd self-destruct before they ever saw Hell. Dark magic, forbidden knowledge, things banned for not mere centuries but millennia were offered to them and they drank deep - the cup spiked with promises of dominion over the ever-breeding, destructive Muggles and the bleeding-heart Mudbloods who defended them. It was like refusing to cast a fumigating charm to rid one's house of rats!

Only the Cause turned into something… else. 

Evan Rosier and Severus had been close from their first month in the dorms. Both with appalling and sticky nicknames, both advanced for their age, the two were called 'Sun and Shadow' within Slytherin. Where one was, you could find the other. 

Evan was now dead along with Charles, killed by Aurors, but before his death he had come to Severus – whose own doubts were growing with every rape and murder, with every bit of research that Voldemort directed for him to pursue. Where was the Cause in his research into immortality? Where was the motivation in exotic euphorics and hallucinogens? How was the preservation of wizard-kind insured by aphrodisiacs? Any wizard or witch of power never lacked for prospective bedmates as to some power itself was the most potent of aphrodisiacs.

There was something going on here, and what was in the sack was not the bill of goods they'd been sold. 

Thoughts segued at some point into dreams of sunshine, tall grass, warm wind and leaping after intriguing rustles and smells. His soft-furred she was elsewhere in the grass, hunting with her she-mate and the day was long before them…

A puff of steam announced Miss Mayborne's exit from the shower. Severus kept his eyes virtuously shut – or perhaps not so virtuously considering what his brain obligingly projected on his eyelids. What possessed the girl to buy knickers with no back to them? Didn't her bum get cold? 

The sounds of dressing and the mutterings of a caffeine-deficient brain were audible – and somewhat amusing. Miss Mayborne was damning everyone from Albus and himself to Reginald MacGuffin and back. 

Then, "I can't do this. No. Not me. A teacher? A professor? Hah! I'll scar those children for life! That's it. I'm going home."

Right on schedule – the panic attack. 

Albus and Minerva had actually knocked Severus over and sat on him in a similar situation all those years ago. It had taken them most of the morning and a few applications of calming charms to talk him out of entering a hermitage for the life of an anchorite.

Severus opened his eyes to find packing activity in full swing. 

Letting her work herself into a fine froth, Severus waited until she dashed into the next room for something before jumping down from the bed. It was truly edifying to see what, exactly, could throw an Acquisitor into a tizzy - pretty much the same thing that could throw a former Death Eater into a tizzy. 

When she came in through the door, books piled haphazardly in her arms, Severus made his move. With a quick figure-eight around her ankles, he dodged falling books and woman and zipped back in to land right between her shoulder blades – and extended his claws.

_Now you listen to me, Emily Rowan Mayborne, I taught you for six years, put up with your obstreperous nature, your everlasting cheek and your willful obduracy to turn you into one of my best, most capable and most accomplished students. You will not, will NOT I say, turn tail and run from a lot of infants! You will give them the full and comprehensive benefit of the efforts that I - and others - have generously expended to your benefit. If you can face down a nest of dark wizards puppeting Quetzalcoatls about, you can handle this - and if you think to balk me in this, so help me Albus Dumbledore, I will take your wand away and spank you with it until the mere thought of sitting makes you howl like a toddler! _

It would have been much more effective in English, but Emily appeared to be getting the point – or, rather, all ten of them as his claw-tips had penetrated that ridiculous Quidditch jersey and were now resting against the skin of her back. She could dislodge him, but it would be bloody. 

"Look, please, just go to the bloody dog and… and… damn it!" She shifted and Severus pressed the sharp points of his claws hard enough to indent her skin.

_As much as I would like to damn him, that happy ability is not in my hands. I will not – ever again – knuckle under to the benefit of the bloody fucking Gryffindors. I have had enough. I have compromised, enough, reversed the field enough, swallowed my pride, my principles, and my self-interest to the point that I would rather eat shit-and-broken-glass sandwiches for the rest of my life than do so one more time. As sorry as I am to have you in the middle of all of it, I will not stand down. Not for anything. Now, I am going to get off your back, and you are going to put on your robes and go to breakfast, you have a quick orientation with the Slytherin first-years before class._

"I wish I knew what you were saying, blast it." She wiggled underneath him and swore when his claws sought a further purchase. "All right! All right! I won't run away! Fine! You're a sadistic bastard to want those children subjected to me! On your own head be it!"

_Spare me! There's so much on my head that I'll scarcely notice this, you silly girl-woman. _

Severus dismounted and began to lick his claws as Emily got to her feet. About time the girl saw sense. 

He chose not to quibble about the choice of attire – her professor's robe over the Acquisitor's boots, trousers and heavy black cotton jumper. The deep brown curls were forced into marching order and made a single braid down her back. If she was trying for some intimidation factor, all well and good, she'd be needing it against the older Slytherin students who could carry House pride to extremes. It would only take a few rounds with a brassed-off Akkie to set the youngsters right. 

And breakfast proved him right. 

The older Slytherins – sixth and seventh years – stared and attempted to engage their putative Head of House in a minor contest. The fifth years all seemed unusually subdued, as did the fourth and third years. The second and first years were wide-eyed and silent. Draco looked exhausted, but was in full belligerent mode – the sixth and seventh years seemed wary of him, and angry with themselves for that wariness. 

It looked to have been an interesting night in Slytherin. If Severus read the situation correctly – and he had been a Slytherin for all but ten years of his life – Draco had cowed everyone from the fifth-years down. The sixth and seventh years were obviously reacting to an abrupt shakeup in Slytherin student hierarchy as well as the sudden new Head of House.

If Emily did not use her whip hand quickly and decisively the situation, she would be mauled by a pack of young predators. 

Severus fretted through his smoked cod and eggs, worried that Miss Mayborne seemed utterly oblivious to the warning signs. Did Ravenclaws have a 'pecking order?' How did they determine position within the House? Would Emily have enough second-hand knowledge of Slytherin to keep herself whole and on top?

The morning post arrived in a barrage of owls and the hall filled with a rustling of paper. Emily had a letter from Artemisia, and surprisingly, one from Narcissa Malfoy. 

Interesting. 

Breakfast concluded and Draco intercepted Emily on her way out of the hall.

"Professor Mayborne? I need a favor." The delivery was perfectly Malfoy, Severus thought. "I have a letter for my sister. If you have correspondence going her way I'd like to send mine along with it, as my owls seem to be… going astray."

Oh, bloody… Lucius could not have been fool enough to set intercept spells on Draco's post, could he?

Oh, yes he could. 

_Lucius, I thought you had better sense than to tick off three women at the same time!_

Still, it was a good thing for Lucius to be occasionally reminded that he was not God. With only a distant acquaintance with humility, elder Malfoy's infrequent collisions with same could be quite fun to watch.

"Of course, Mister Malfoy, I'd be happy to do it." 

Draco patted his robes and smiled. "Silly. I seem to have left it in my room. You're going that way, yes?" He glanced down at Severus, "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that you had a familiar."

"Ah, yes. This is Pamiu." The _Prudiserro _kicked in, preventing any further speech. 

Crouching, Draco offered a finger. Severus offered a token sniff and nosebump – he was fond of Draco and thought that he might actually salvage the boy from his father's intent. Draco was still at the age when he wanted desperately to please his father, but fast approaching the age when rebellion could be carefully cultivated. 

"He's rather a Slytherin fellow. Quite grand-looking." Draco inclined his head slightly, "Good morrow to you, Master Pamiu," and chuckled at Severus' regal nod in return. "Thinks he runs things, does he?"

The students were well gone before Draco looked around and grabbed Emily's hand. "You're in trouble, Emmy. I can handle everyone in my year and down, but the sixth and seventh years are going to get nasty. Camilla Nott, Edward Pucey, Duncan Ablesworthy – the three of them are the most outspoken, but not the most vicious.  Zenobia Macnair, Holly Ainsley, Connor Thirlwall and Bertram Avery, were planning to actually hurt you. You've got to…"

Severus felt deeply alarmed. All of those named were the ones on his 'watch list' as Death Eaters in training. While none would take the Mark while at Hogwarts, Severus would bet that all would have the Mark on their left forearm within a week of leaving school. Could they really be so far gone as to attack…?

The smile on Emily's face chilled his blood and apparently took Draco the same way. 

"Draco, speaking as Emily – not Professor Mayborne – I will tell you one thing. If that pack of snot-nosed, puling infants think that they can run me down, they are in for a very rude and abrupt revision of their perceptions." The smile widened and became more of a show of teeth. "I'm not going to be the easy ride that Professor Snape was, and I don't care if I have to grind every sacred cow into hamburger to get my point across."

Severus was not so easily convinced, but Emily's scent now held an undertone like scorched earth. 

Draco's relief was transfiguring, "I'll walk you in then, just to give you the letter." 

With a nod, Emily fell into step next to him, Severus between both. They descended into the dungeons, Emily twitched her wrist and her wand landed in her hand as they went through the common room. 

The tension in the air was thick enough to slice, Severus felt his hackles begin to raise. It was too quiet. 

Draco ducked into his room and came out with a roll of parchment. "I'll walk you back out again, Professor."

"No, Draco, you won't." Emily tucked the parchment into her robe. "I have an orientation to give and a lesson to teach. If one helps reinforce the other, so much the better. You may walk with me, if you will."

Severus had gone through something very similar upon his return to Hogwarts. Slytherin rankings were based on power over one's peers – an individual's rank and cadre grew within the House. Station was determined by alliances – who was whose lover, follower, friend. Severus' own rank as a student had been very high, Lucius was his patron and lover and Lucius had ruled Slythrin from his fifth year. Draco looked to be following in his father's footsteps and - if nothing disastrous happened - Slytherin soon would be jumping if Draco thought 'frog.'

Emily was coming naked into the serpent's pit. Her Malfoy lover and the backing of Draco would be weighed against the enmity of Lucius. Her own abilities would have to save her.

The common room now held only a terrified huddle of first years and the group named by Draco. 

It was quick, and it was done at a level of ferociousness that Severus had not seen in a while. 

The seven conspirators were howling and on their knees by the time it was over – after being flung about the room like rag dolls. Emily held their wands bunched in one hand, her breathing harsh from the pain of either bruised or cracked ribs. Severus had his teeth and claws sunk deep in Connor Thirlwall's right forearm. Draco was standing very still and keeping very quiet, his eyes seeming to flicker as he reassessed the situation.

With the Malfoy arrogance and grace, the boy came forward and laid a hand on the spot where Emily had taken the chair leg to the ribs. It was as if he were petting a tigress, not as a pet, but as an ally in the hunt.

"_Rescariossus." Emily took a deep, free breath. It seemed that Draco had inherited his father's talent as a healer. "Well, Professor, it would seem I was mistaken. Here I thought that nobody would ever be so stupid as to attack a field-trained Acquisitor. I apologise for my House."_

Emily gave a nod and shifted her wand, tucking it into her armpit and wrapping both hands around the bundle of seven wands. Severus caught his breath – if she broke them…

Connor Thirlwall sobbed and the others were transfixed with terror. Expulsions did not happen often at Hogwarts – perhaps one every fifteen or so years – but this would be a record. If asked to pick death versus expulsion, most students would choose a quick _Avada Kedrava_ to the ignominy of having their wands broken before they were Flooed back home.

"Professor, a moment?"

Emily arched an eyebrow – Severus was quite amused as it was a mannerism borrowed from him. "Draco?"

"I think that – perhaps – my… associates were hasty. Simply being hotheaded and not thinking things through – most un-Slytherin of them." Draco moved to stand in front of Emily, keeping a respectful distance, using mannerism and formal tone to communicate the subtleties of rank. "If I may, I will vouch for their behavior, if you will trust me to do so. We of Slytherin often handle such things within the House. Professor Snape can assure you of that, if you have a way to contact him."

_That's stretching it somewhat, Draco. However, I need this pack of idiots where I can keep an eye on them. The situation is far worse than I thought._

"This merits expulsion, Draco, as well as criminal charges. I want very much to know where they learned some of those spells – and so will the Ministry." Emily's tone could have frozen steel. Severus reassessed his measure of her – the soft curves and guileless expression hid a very dangerous little hellcat. It wasn't just temper – that he had experienced from her before – nor was it her stubbornness, but a streak of almost feline ruthlessness that he had not seen before. 

Connor Thirlwall fainted. Holly Ainsley and Camilla Nott broke into hysterical tears. Zenobia Macnair appeared transfixed with sheer, white-faced terror. Ableworthy, Avery and Pucey threw what little dignity they had left to the winds and groveled, all but kissing the hem of Emily's robe.

Draco was more like his father than Severus had ever thought possible. "Perhaps, you might be convinced of their repentance," Draco gestured gracefully to the sprawled bodies. "It seems genuine to me."

Draco was engineering a _coup d'état_. Not even Lucius had been able to seize the reins so thoroughly. With the children of seven prominent families saved from disgrace – and Ministry questioning - the personal and familial debt to Draco would be enormous. 

"Yes, quite genuine indeed. They are genuinely repentant that I beat the snot out of them. They are not sorry for the assault, Draco, they are simply sorry to be facing the consequences." 

Severus had to hand it to Draco – he'd really been paying attention to his father's politicking and cultivating his mother's light touch. By the end of it, the seven were all but kissing the hem of Draco's robe as well. 

Through it all the first years were wide-eyed and quiet as mice at a meeting of cats.

_Hmm. Just had breakfast. Why am I hungry?_

Emily handed back the wands one by one. Their owners were so limp that it looked as if someone had removed their spines. When she smiled at the first years, they nearly dropped dead on the spot. "Since these uppers have taken the time that I was supposed to spend with you, why don't you come by my office for tea? Three forty-five, please."

~

The first class was Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw first years. 

There was no reason to panic - Ravenclaw was her old House and she'd had a good few friends in Hufflepuff. 

If she left now she could be Apparating from the gate and at home with Missy in fifteen minutes.

"Breach of contract. Can't do that. It's breach of contract."

She wasn't a Potions master. She wasn't a teacher or a lecturer, much less a professor – who the hell was Dumbledore kidding?

"Yow!" Snape was seated regally on his high desk, eyeing her with some ire. 

"Right. Right." 

Inanna's tits! Her insides felt like jelly!

With trepidation, she approached the desk, mounting the steps to the dais. A symbol of Snape's inapproachability, his authority – the desk was imbued with an almost mystical power. The stool felt too high for her, so she placed a small lifting charm on the first rung. 

There it was. The legendary bottle of blood-scarlet ink and the smaller one of black. The raven quills neatly in their racks. The House Book for the addition or deduction of points. The lessons, grade book, and journals. Behind her were the Potions tomes most often used in class and the racks of common remedies to classroom disasters. 

The door opened and a very young face peeked in, following with the rest of him, classmates in tow.

The children sorted themselves into tentative groups as Emily watched. She well remembered her first time in this classroom. Professor Haversham had been looking forward to nothing more than retirement and bugger a bunch of snot-nosed kids who were standing between him and his retirement cottage. It was through sheer luck that anyone got anything out of his classes. He passed everyone – even those who hadn't a clue as to what they were doing. Then, for second year, they had a new Potions Master – Severus Snape, a sneering, evil-natured Slytherin alumnus who became cause of more nightmares and tears than any other teacher – and the sole source of every last one of Emily's detentions through the six years he'd been her teacher.

The students settled, parchment and quills at ready, looking around the dim room with evident nervousness.

Showtime.

~

Emily was a natural. Rough around the edges, but she had the class from the moment she opened her mouth. 

Some of the children here were younger siblings of old classmates - she asked after older sibs and parents, and the children began to relax and respond. There were dread-laced questions about his own whereabouts; however, with the_ Prudissero in place Emily could not fully answer. She did manage to make it sound desirable that he should return and take up their teaching; after all, such a prominent Potions Master was vastly preferable to someone of her relative inexperience._

She encouraged questions – What would they be able to do this year? What was it like to be an Acquisitor? Would they get to make real potions that really did things? How did classes go? Did she give detentions often? 

It helped that she was female – wizarding children were most often schooled at home by their mothers, governesses, or hired tutors. 

At the same time, Emily was using the questions to find out how much her students knew – and that was very little indeed. It was Severus' despair that it took two years to get the children up to any proficiency at all. 

Emily then rearranged the children in pairs of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. "Outside of Hogwarts we have to work with people from different backgrounds and techniques. This is a good way to get started. We Ravenclaws are quick-witted, but sometimes we need to slow down and take things step by step before moving on to the next thing.  Hufflepuffs often need to learn to vary techniques – what works for one potion can ruin another. This way you'll learn from each other, as well as from me."

By the end of the class, the little ones were taking notes and on the books like Seeker after a snitch. 

And Severus was very suspicious.

The little ones filed out and Severus turned a stern gaze on Miss Mayborne. 

_What are you planning, little Ravenclaw chick? _

The wretched girl simply made notes in the class record and smiled. 

Well, the next class was not so easy as her first one. The fifth year Slytherins and Gryffi –

_No. Oh no. Oh no, you don't! You will not! I forbid it! _

His yowl was still echoing off the stones as the door opened and Draco Malfoy came through – stopping with a look of some concern.

"Come in Mister Malfoy, Pamiu and I have frequent differences of opinion, and this is just one of them." She then turned to Severus, "I don't recall needing your permission for this, and when you are teaching the class, you may do as you see fit. Until then, belt up."

_Belt…?! I remind you, miss, to whom you are speaking! You will not take that snippy tone with me!_

"I have neither the time or the patience to deal with your objections. Second warning, Cat. If you can teach the class, then by all means, go right on ahead."

The rest of the class was filing in and began to separate into their accustomed groups. In Gryffindor; Potter, Granger and Weasley – the Terrible Trio. Neville Longbottom hiding in Granger's shadow and looking as if he'd rather be anywhere on the great green globe than here – the feeling was mutual; Snape would rather have the menace that was Longbottom there, too. Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas – arguing earnestly about the new All-England Quidditch team. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were already twittering over the latest pseudo-mystical flot spouted by Sybil Trelawney – they'd stopped bringing their Divination work into his class after he'd incinerated it. Sally-Ann Perks and Melissa Moon – the wallflowers of Gryffindor with their shy smiles and giggles.

On the Slytherin side, Draco was quickly flanked by his knuckle-draggers, Crabbe and Goyle. Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstode, Blaise Zabini, Tracey Davis – all came in a giggling girl gaggle. Stephanie Griengrass and Thomas Nott were seemingly attached at the hip and quietly observing all around them. Lucille Hainault slipped in last, joining her dormitory mates with a giggle and whisper.

Severus arched his back and felt his ears lay back. _You listen to me, girl. You will not do this. It will cause endless mayhem and possibly serious injuries. I will not permit you to upset the established order of…_

The class was listening, wide-eyed as their new Potions Mistress apparently engaged in a scorching argument with her familiar. 

"I am not going to stand here and argue with you all bloody day. I have a class to teach, and if you can't stop howling like an air-raid siren –"

_You will listen if I say you will listen you little –_

"_Petrificus totalus." Severus' legs snapped together, tail pointing skyward, chin straight out and ears up. He fell with a clunk to the desk blotter._

_-bitch._

Mortifiying. Just humiliating. Oh, this was_ so _beneath her! Really. He was simply voicing his objections, calling upon his years of experience, and the stubborn girl stooped to _this_? He was very disappointed. 

Picking him up, she had the effrontery to rub his ears before she propped him against a pile of books atop the desk. 

_I'll have my revenge. Oh, don't you even think that you'll escape retribution. _The sudden image of Miss Professor Pretty tied to his bed whilst he dripped icy cold water on her sensitive parts was quite engaging. She'd wiggle and curse and plead…

"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR BLOODY MIND?!" 

Ronald Weasley's Howler-volume question snapped Severus out of his planning. The Gryffindors were all on their feet, shouting _en masse. His Slytherins were stone still, but every one of them looked furious. _

Emily stood calmly before the storm of outrage, arms folded, weight on one leg. When the noise died down, she said, "I don't recall asking for opinions. I don't recall asking your permission. If I say that Slytherin and Gryffindor will pair off and work together, you will bloody well do it and I don't care what you think of it."

The howling broke out again, and Emily flicked her wand. "_Confutomnis."_

Mouths moved but nothing came out. Severus was pleased to see Potter's everlasting mouth running to no effect whatsoever. Granger simply looked stunned – not furious, but Longbottom's rabbit-face finally held an expression other than terror – the boy looked ready to take bites out of something he was so angry.

"The next outburst from anyone chops twenty points from Slytherin and Gryffindor – each." Slytherin moved to protest, but stopped at an upraised hand. "In the world outside these walls you are going to have to work with people you don't like. You're going to have to work with people who do things differently, have different ideas and beliefs – and are going to learn to start doing that here. I know all about the Slytherin-Gryffindor feud, I know how it continues even after graduation – I have seen it delay or scuttle projects, erupt into petty squabbles and even endanger lives. It's beyond pranks and foolery and into stupidity and malice." The derision took everyone including Snape aback – he'd never really given much mind to what those of other Houses thought of Slytherin and Gryffindor's mutual grudge. "Snape can put you all back when he return, but until then, you will work together and succeed together, or you will _fail_ together."

The Gryffindors and a few of the Slytherin banged on the desks  - Snape wanted to shut his eyes but the bloody _Petrificus_ held them open. This was either going to be a roaring success or an unmitigated catastrophe – and his bet was not on the side of success. 

"Potter, Granger, Weasley, Finnegan, Longbottom, Patil, Brown, Crabbe, Zabini, Parkinson, Griengrass, Nott – detention. See me in my office before lunch to arrange it. Twenty points each from Slytherin and Gryffindor." The gasps from the students made to torches flicker, they hadn't thought that she'd really do it – and neither had he. "Congratulations, ladies and gentlemen, you have just slapped your Houses into negative numbers on the first day of classes. I think that might just be a new record! I will release the spell, and what you do after that is up to you – but it will be up to me to decide how many points it is worth. _Eloquomnis_."

The stunned – and silent - students paired off. "Patil and Davis. Griengrass and Brown. Crabbe and Finnegan. Bulstrode and Weasley. Granger and Parkinson. Nott and Perks." The students took their desks together, sitting as far apart as possible, regarding each other with loathing. "Moon and Hainault. Longbottom and Zabini. Goyle and Thomas…"

The last two students looked at each other in horror.

~

"Potter and Malfoy."

Harry gawped at Malfoy and Malfoy gawped back at him, then…

"THE BLOODY HELL I WILL - !" "YOU ARE A BLOODY MADWOMAN IF YOU THINK - !"

"_Confutomnis." A flick of a wand and what he was going to say became silent air. "Detention and another five points from Gryffindor and from Slytherin."_

Malfoy's lips were still moving and Harry would bet his Firebolt that what he was saying would earn him a good bit more than one detention. He wished he could hear it - this bloody woman was a nightmare! To think that he and Ron had actually thought that she was pretty! Even if Ron did mumble something about his dad not much liking 'her kind.' Wherever Snape was, he needed to get back here – after this Harry and the entire class would fall to their knees and kiss the hem of his robe! 

The sudden thought struck him that Snape might be doing something much more important and dangerous that presiding over Potions classes. Headmaster Dumbledore had asked Snape to do something that – Harry thought – had scared him. What could scare Snape was something that Harry wanted very much not to know. 

Fine. Just. Fine. He could deal with Malfoy. The spawn of a Death Eater, and all around prat, git, prick…

With jaw clenched and teeth grinding, Harry took his seat. And when he'd seen Remus he had thought it might actually be a good year!

Hermione and Pansy looked about to start pulling each other's hair out by the handfuls any moment. Ron seemed ready to faint with horror as Millie Bulstrode towered over him. Neville and Blaise Zabini both looked as if they had made a wrong turn and wound up in hell. Draco took his seat and sat as stiffly as if he'd been hit with the same _Petrificus_ as Professor Mayborne's familiar.

"_Eloquomnis."_

Harry grunted – just to make sure that his vocal cords were working - and pulled out his Potions journal and quill. Draco was muttering under his breath as he did the same – the blond boy's language was enough to guarantee detention until he was thirty. Then came the two words that never failed to make Harry's eyes roll – "My father…"

Professor Mayborne's smile was simply scary. It was like watching a tiger smile – at the thought of dinner. "Pardon me, Mister Malfoy?"

Draco's sneer was muted for some reason, but the strutting confidence of his words was still enough to make Harry want to hit him.

"When my father hears of this…"

Even the Gryffindors looked at little hopeful – damn near everyone knuckled under to Lucius Malfoy and that family had been Slytherin since Salazar! 

"Ah. Lucius." Professor Mayborne leaned on Harry and Malfoy's desk. "Been a while. I haven't crossed wands with Lucius in a few years now – your mother or sister can fill you in on the details." Draco had a _sister? "But honestly, Draco, one of the last things in this world that I fear is Lucius with his bits in a twist." The tiger-smile deepened – a tiger wanting to develop a close, personal relationship with dinner. "As the Yanks say – Bring it."_

The woman was insane! She looked like a soft little thing, but she was just mad! The whole class evidently thought so, too. Even the Dim Twins – Crabbe and Goyle – had the wits to look scared. 

"Now that we've spent precious class time dispensing with this stupidity, can we now continue the lesson?" Mounting the steps, the Potions Mistress took a place behind the lectern. "Today's lecture is first in a series on the uses of minerals, metals and gemstones – a subject that is very complicated and hence will consume the larger part of your lab time this year. Today we will begin by covering the best-known gemstones – ruby, diamond, sapphire, emerald, pearl - and their general properties." 

By the end of the lecture, Harry was dizzy and even Hermione looked a little daunted. Malfoy was still scribbling frantically in his notes. From Actinolite to Zircon there were hundreds of different stones, a good many with subcategories. Fourteen types of emerald? Thirty-five types of sapphire? Eight types of ruby? How different colors of diamond could affect the potion in which they were used? Why only natural pearls – never cultured - should be used in potions? Why the properties of gemstones could be changed by heating and when they should not be heated? The reasons to use raw or 'rough' gems or cut gems? 

Setting up their cauldrons, the class was silent. Everyone knew that fifth year brought more in-depth explorations on subjects, but this…! 

"Your laboratory unit for today is a simple purifying potion. The pearls are each standardized for weight and size." With a flick of the wand, the specification and formula appeared, along with a large chalkboard. "Feel free to ask questions. As a matter of fact, if any of you are at any time uncertain as to a particular step or method, I would encourage you to do so. Especially as, if steps two through five are not done correctly, this potion has a marked tendency to explode."

With that, she turned back to the desk, settled on the high stool and opened a ledger on the blotter. "Oh, and one more thing, students, when I said succeed together or fail together, I meant it. You are being graded as a team in your laboratory units, and since that is half your grade, it would behoove you not to sabotage your partners just for a shot at a rival house. You may begin."

Squabbles broke out, but were squelched by detention and deduction of House points. Before long, Harry was taking notes in a lab journal and Malfoy was cutting, chopping, grinding and brewing. The blond boy had fast hands, and a very sure technique. Harry had to grudgingly admit that Malfoy earned his marks in Potions – Snape might favor Slytherin, but he gave no one an easy ride. 

"So, your dad's going to hit the ceiling over this one, Malfoy?" Harry murmured, keeping a very sharp eye on the witch at the desk. 

"What's the Muggle expression? He'll go ballistic." Malfoy shook his head in equal parts anger and admiration. "She's mad. Nutters." Then, slyly, "She's potty."

Harry flushed and was about to retaliate when…

"Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy, do you really want to be spending all your free time with either me or Master Filch?"

"No, Professor Mayborne." "No, Professor Mayborne."

"Then keep your attention on your work and not on pushing each others' buttons - Draco."

"Yes, Professor Mayborne." "Yes, Professor Mayborne."

How the hell did she do that? She wasn't even looking at them, she was writing in the ledger and occasionally rubbing her cat's ears! 

The class did a credible job on the potion, and had time to test it on corrupted samples of different things. A glass of sour milk was returned to drinkable state. Fouled water was made potable. A botched potion was made useable. Harry was quite impressed.

"Very satisfactory. Five points to Slytherin and to Gryffindor. Your assignment for the week is an essay on the possible uses of the potion you just made, and alternate ingredients that would have the same effect." The professor picked up her petrified familiar, tucking him under one arm. "Those of you with detentions to arrange please see me in my office immediately after class. To the rest of you, good day."

She left in a swirl of robes that would have done Snape proud.

~

The office door banged shut and Emily collapsed into a chair like a puppet with strings cut.

Severus was bloody furious. She'd petrified him and left him sitting on the desk like a furry paperweight! In front of the whole class! She'd violated the unspoken rules that kept Slytherin and Gryffindor segregated – and the school standing - then she had the effrontery to… do things… to his ears! 

Severus' visions of revenge were glorious.

Professor Pretty would get everything that she had coming to her and then some – and Severus would enjoy the delivery of six long years of frustration upon her wriggling, pink, squealing self.

"Now, _Pamiu_, we need to have a little talk. You behaved abominably today, and I am not going to stand for it." Her light tone hardened, her expression grim. "This fucking quarrel between the houses has had some very nasty consequences in the world outside. I'm going to release you and tell you about them, but if you start squalling at me, you'll go back to being a paperweight until you calm down. _Mulceo_."

Severus shook, blinked and fluffed everything out, just to let her how annoyed he was before settling into Bast posture. 

_Talk girl, there's not a lot that can change my mind._

"In our second year as Acquisitors Missy, Susan and I were assigned to a new site found on a warded island in the Adriatic. It was the ancient domain of a dark wizard, who apparently died at the teeth of his own creations. The place was loaded with artifacts and writings – and the descendants of those creations that hadn't eaten each other." She settled back in the chair, keeping her eyes locked with his. "Missy, Susan and I and another team were a assigned section of the dungeons and were clearing it for the archaeological teams. The former owner was brilliant, but it's very easy to see how he died – he'd been experimenting with making guardian beasts out of venomous snakes." 

Severus felt his hackles raise – altering the properties of the being also meant in many cases that the properties of the venom were altered and that the administration of antidotes could have unforeseen side-effects. 

"We had asked, and been told, that the workroom area had been cleared – it hadn't. The snakes were little, but they were leapers and the venom was formulated along that of viperidae. Missy, Susan and I received bites on the hands and face." She held out her hand, and showed Severus what appeared to be little paired pinpricks of white scars. "The mediwizard in training who was supposed to be trailing us had instead left his post to go complain to his superior about having to work with a Slytherin. They found us in time, but when they administered the antidote in the field kit, Susan went into convulsions - she was allergic to the venom. I remembered the emergency potion to halt anaphylaxis, you taught it to us in sixth year. I had to mix and administer the potion myself. He refused to even listen to Missy. Because this boy carried the feud with him, Susan nearly died."

Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on her knees. Severus sat mute and chilled, stunned that anyone could take the grudge to that length. But should he have been? The rivalry had been open warfare from the time James Potter dragged him unconscious and bleeding into the infirmary. Severus' mates, worried when he hadn't shown up after dinner, had gone looking for him – with Evan Rosier spotting Potter hauling Severus in. 

Blood had been spilled – his. Even if Severus could not speak of the events of that night, Slytherin avenged its own – blood for blood. By the time he had returned to teach, the feud was institutionalized – the cause forgotten, the mayhem continued. It was only six years ago that Slytherin and Gryffindor were even put back into classes together.

"Susan never made a full recovery. The nerve agent in the venom, the convulsions, hemorrhages, and swelling from the reaction left damage behind." Emily's eyes glimmered and a rainy scent that must be sadness rolled from her skin. "The firm placed her in gemstones acquisition, splitting her between Bangkok and London. You know… what we were to each other. In time, we grew too far apart. Missy and I were in the field. Susan was traveling. It wasn't a bad ending, we're friends, but…"

_You'll never know what could have been. That I understand. _

"Do you see now what I'm trying to do?"

"Yow." _I do, but you are working against something that had become institutionalized - not only on the part of the school, but outside of it as well. Lucius and the other Slytherin parents might blow their top over this, but it's going to be a tea party compared to what the Gryffindor parents will do to you._

A rap at the door signaled the first of the detainees coming for their disposition and Emily wearily pulled herself back together. Severus took a position on the desk at her side, looking stern. 

"Enter!"

~

Sirius was perplexed. 

He nudged the girl's hand again. Her scent was so washed out that it was almost watery.

Same reaction.

"Buhbuhbuhbuh…"

He looked at Snape. "Woof?"

_What in the hell's wrong with her?_

Emily Mayborne sat in a chair in the staff room and stared haggardly into space. From what Sirius had been hearing through out the day, she'd earned it. Mixing Slytherins and Gryffindors! Minerva McGonagall had pitched a fit that was soothed only by Dumbledore's patient applications of Strachan's Single Malt.

There were a few other things he held against her, too – things much more personal than mixing the Houses. The way Remus looked at her. The scent deliciously unique to a healthy, receptive female – even if she couldn't help it. The way Remus' clothes smelled of her last night. She kissed him. Kissed Remus! 

Snape shrugged. "Meow."

The tone was rather matter-of-fact. Was this normal? Certainly Snape was taking this rather too well – Slytherin partisan that he was. Though Sirius supposed a _petrificus_ might have a way of settling a man – or a cat. Either way, Sirius wished that he'd been able to see it.

Remus came in, carrying a cup in one hand. Tea? What the hell did he thing he was going to do with tea? The woman needed a psychiawitch! 

Remus kicked a hassock in front of Emily's seat and set himself on it. Other teachers were peering in the door, and then withdrawing with smiles that were either sympathetic or vindictive, depending on their relationship with Remus or Mayborne.

"Here now, Emmy." Remus picked up one limp hand and pressed the cup into it. "Drink this up, just toss it on back."

The Cat snorted and Sirius agreed - it would take more than a cuppa to revive her!

In slow motion the cup lifted to lips and she tossed it back.

"That's a girl," Remus propped the bottom of the cup with his fingers, "tip it all back."

"URGHURK!" The cup was thrown across the room. Emily spluttered and coughed herself off the chair and onto the floor. "That *coughcough* wasn't *cough* bloody *kaffhack* tea!"

"No, it was the best damned whiskey in all of Scotland. _Desmadidus_." The sobering charm made Sirius shiver in sympathy. The charm wrung the bespelled through all the stages of drunkenness in five seconds flat – including the hangover.

_Ooh, Moony, that's rough!_

Emily evidently agreed, glaring at Remus from the floor and suggesting some unusual sexual positions. Sirius committed a few of them to memory, as they were quite lyrical. 

"Sorry Emmy, but," Remus laughed, "if you could have seen yourself! Look, it's a normal reaction. I'll even bet that you want to go find every teacher you've ever had and kiss the hems of their robes in humble apology." Offering his hand, he helped her to her feet. "I felt the same way after my first day, and I have it on good authority that Severus begged to be permitted to enter a monastery."

Snape in a monastery? Maybe to bugger the monks! Slytherins were a lusty and precocious lot, and some were quite versatile in orientation. Lucius had seen to Severus' education and sent the little git on his merry rounds – Snape and his cohorts had been bouncing from bed to bed from fourth year, the Slytherin sluts.

Emily eyed Whisp with a grin, "A monastery now, is it?"

Snape did that His Majesty The Cat posture again, ignoring with dignity. 

"Then again, neither Severus or I ever decided to, oh… say… set off bombs in the dungeons?" Remus raised an eyebrow and firmed his grip on her wrist. "You've some explaining to do."

"Oh, shit fire and save matches, you're not a Gryff too?" Emily wailed. "Look, the whole school turns on the fucking Slytherin/Gryffindor feud, and it carries over in unexpected ways after school is left behind. I might have to explain it to Snape and to Dumbledore but I will be fucked, buttered and painted blue if I'll kowtow to anyone else and that is bloody final!"

The last word was roared at full voice an inch from Remus' nose.

Remus blinked.

Sirius blinked.

Severus squeezed his eyes closed, whiskers turning up, the scent of contentment rolling off of him. 

_WHAT?_ Okay, fine. Sirius could see Whisp enduring, dealing with or tolerating Miss Mayborne's frankly wrongheaded edict, but_ acceptance_? Remus seemed to be likewise buffaloed – the scents and stance of the quiet-looking woman were more appropriate to a big carnivore protecting her territory. 

In a blink, Emily was back to her friendly-looking, sweet-scented self. "Now, gentlemen, we're going to be late for dinner. Are you all coming?"

~

Harry and Ron looked up as Hermione came into the Gryffindor common room just before curfew. 

"Well? What did Remus say?" "Did you talk to him?"

Hermione nodded, her face grim and gestured to a corner by the fireplace. The room was filled with students stumbling back into school routine, and the trio went unnoticed. 

"He didn't want to tell me, I know that much. Harry, I'm not sure that he was right to tell me anything. We could be putting both Professor Snape and Sirius in grave danger." 

"Is there any other kind, 'Mione?" Ron got an elbow in his ribs from her for that one.

"Shush, Ron, this is serious." One hand unconsciously closed around her prefects badge as if it could be used for a shield. "All he would say about Sirius was that he had no idea how long he'd be gone, but that the Ministry is still hunting for him. Snape…" Hermione took a deep breath, "Remus said that he could be in a lot more danger if anyone was to interfere, and that the best way to help them both is by staying put."

Ron and Harry both grimaced at that. Time to get out the invisibility cloak and have a look about, just to see of they could find anything. Sirius could need help, and so could Snape – even if Snape in need of anything from anybody was the last thing the three could imagine. 

"What about the mer- the Acquisitor?" Ron changed tone at a pair of hard looks from Harry and Hermione. He'd had his prejudices rammed down his throat and hadn't liked the taste one bit. From werewolves, to Muggleborn versus Pureblood, to same-sex pairings, to Acquisitors the wizarding was more tolerant in some areas and less in others.

Hermione's voice was a little stiff. "Emily Mayborne is a former advanced student of Professor Snape's and she did not exactly volunteer for this. She's got a mate…"

Ron muttered, "A _Malfoy_ mate…"

"… and a life that have been interrupted. She's not a Gryffindor or a Slytherin, but a Ravenclaw. Remus seems to think… quite well of her." The last sentence was brittle and there were hard streaks of red under her cheekbones. 

Harry nearly fell over in astonishment. Hermione… Remus…oh… wow.

It was going to be an interesting year.

~

Breakfast the next morning was very interesting, to say the least.

This morning saw Draco Malfoy get a double Howler from his parents. Two brilliant red parchments flanked him, roaring in French loud enough to shake the tables. More Howlers arrived for other students about the same time. The Gryffindor fifth and third years got the most, with their Slytherin counterparts taking second. A few Ravenclaw and a single Hufflepuff took the brunt of their parent's outrage.

It was nothing to compare to the head table, where Remus Lupin and Emily Mayborne looked to be getting showered with overlarge rose petals. The staff looked amazed – and a few looked angry. Minerva gathered herself and went to speak quietly to the pair and returned to her seat shaking her head as Remus popped the seals on his Howlers one by one. 

The children of the people in question cringed in utter shame. Professor Lupin was a good teacher! He was fair and knew what he was doing a lot better than the other hacks who'd been tapped to teach Defense. The epithets in those Howlers guaranteed that the authors had never intended them to be opened at breakfast, either. Through it all the man simply sat and ate his eggs, drank his coffee, and chatted with Professor Mayborne. Their familiars – the black cat on the table and the brown and white dog under it – were the ones having fits. 

Finally, the last of Remus' Howlers went off. 

Mortified silence filled the hall, the usual morning sounds smothered under the weight of the occupants' embarrassment at having witnessed such a stunning display of bad manners and bigotry.

"Are you going to answer?" Emily buttered a scone and slipped some bacon to Toffee.

Remus shrugged, "Nothing they called me or threatened me with is anything that I haven't heard before. It's not worth the energy to fight with them. It won't change their minds and just makes me tired and frustrated. Sometimes you get to pick your battles – I'll sit this one out."

Emily nodded and broke open her first Howler, careful to copy the sender's name and address in a little book pulled from a pocket on her cargo pants.

It was… worse. Some students got up and ran from the hall. A good few later composed Howlers to their own parents. Others put their heads on the table when they recognized their parent's voices. 

The staff, to a one, looked stunned.

And yet, the young professor calmly opened each envelope. 

They called her names that a Knockturn Alley streetwalker would consider offensive. They insulted her sexual orientation. They called her a mercenary, a profiteer, a pirate and a thief. They threatened her with bodily harm in terms graphic and violent. They threatened action with the Ministry.

The cat gave up his yowling and took a place in her lap. Even the dog managed to look horrified. Remus simply asked Emily if she'd like to try the cheese rolls, they were quite good.

Finally, the last owl came forward; a Malfoy eagle owl with a red envelope in his beak. 

Draco pushed his breakfast away and buried his head in his arms. 

Emily broke the seal.

"WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING – TRADITION -- SOUND REASONS NOT TO MIX HOUSES – MUDBLOODS – CORRUPTION – GRYFFINDORS – SHOULD HAVE VOTED AGAINST YOUR EMPLOYMENT – GO BACK TO BEING A MERCENARY – UNFIT TO TEACH – UNFIT FOR POLITE SOCIETY – SACKED IF I HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY ABOUT IT AND I DO – FLOUTING YOUR DISREGARD OF PROPER WAYS SINCE THE AGE OF FIFTEEN – HOYDEN – UNMARRIED AT TWENTY-THREE – NO HEIRS – DISREGARD, NO, UTTER CONTEMPT FOR THE OBLIGATIONS OF YOUR SEX AND HERITAGE – LED MY ARTEMISIA ASTRAY -- MADE THE WRONG STEP WITH ME FOR THE LAST TIME, YOU SAPPHIC STRUMPET!"

The Howler disintegrated in a flash of green fire and the hall was silent though that the faint creaking of timbers in the rafters could be heard. 

"Well, Lucius, always good to hear from you, even if it is repetitive." Setting down her mug, she gently deposited her familiar on the table and petted him. The handsome beast's tail was corkscrewed and his ears twitching. "Don't take on so, P- Pamiu, I'm used to it by now." The cat howled. "We'll discuss it later, I need to answer these before class. I'll be back in a few minutes." Glancing at occupants of the table, many too stunned to move, much less speak, excused herself and left.

The hall sat silent. Minerva McGonagall leaned over to whisper to a very grim-looking Albus Dumbledore.

Minutes passed. It was getting close to class time, but not one teacher or student moved from their seat.

Emily came back through the door, two scarlet envelopes in her hands.

Only two? There had to have been thirty or more Howlers between her and Remus Lupin! 

She blinked to see not one person had moved in the ten minutes she'd been gone. "Well, since you're all here, I'll show you some practical little spells that my partner and I learned in America."

Laying one envelope on the table, she tapped it with her wand. "Xeroxio seventeen."

Pop. Pop. Pop. One by one seventeen scarlet envelopes appeared next to the original, identical down to the blob of sealing wax impressed with the Mayborne oak, peregrine, and crossed lances. 

Remus looked impressed. "Xeroxio? That's a good one! But are you sure you want to do this? It's not going to change anyone's minds, you know."

The dog barked in what sounded like affirmation. The cat walked over to the heap of defunct howlers and mimed burying them as he might his waste, shaking a paw in dismissal as he walked away.

Emily opened her little notebook and tapped an address, "Here's another one. It's good for when you have to address a large amount of documents to individuals. Dragondrop." A tiny winged dragon flew from the tip of her wand, clutching a small card it its talons. The hummingbird-sized dragon dropped the card onto the Howler and the address appeared on the envelope before the little lizard flew back to Emily's wand. "I know it's not really – dragondrop - going to change – dragondrop -anything, I just – dragondrop - feel compelled – dragondrop - to respond. Dragondrop. If someone wants – dragondrop - to critique my – dragondrop - performance, - dragondrop - profession, - dragondrop - personal habits, - dragondrop - morals, - dragondrop - ethics, - dragondrop - manners, - dragondrop - or breeding, - dragondrop - that's fine, - dragondrop - but leave my she-mate out of it."

She summoned waiting owls and distributed the Howlers. The birds departed in a thunder of wings, bearing her response back to their owners. Emily then summoned the Malfoy eagle owl.

The entire Slytherin table stood up with apprehension and outright fear on many faces.

"Sit down and finish your breakfast." Emily looked up from addressing the envelope. "Sit."

They sat. 

Offering the owl a treat, she said, "Now, take this to Big Daddy right away, wherever he is. There's a good fellow."

Things, however, did not go as planned. Instead of winging for the open window, the huge owl flew the length of the great Hall and swooped out the doors that led into the entry hall. 

"Ohbloodyno."

There was a pause and then…

"WHO IN THE HELL ARE YOU TO TALK TO ME THAT WAY – SAY WHAT YOU LIKE ABOUT ME OR MY PROFESSION BUT LEAVE MISSY OUT OF IT, YOU WHITE-HAIRED HYPOCRITE – AT LEAST I HAVE OTHER ACCOMPLISHMENTS TO MY RECORD OTHER THAN BEING BORN – TWOFACED – ARROGANT – FULL OF YOURSELF -- FULL OF SHIT – HEAD UP SO FAR UP YOUR ARSEHOLE THAT YOU CAN PLAY YOUR VOCAL CORDS LIKE A KAZOO – IF YOU HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY TO ME YOU MAY COME TO MY OFFICE AFTER FOUR O'CLOCK AND SAY IT DIRECTLY TO MY FACE –" 

The cat buried his face in his paws and moaned in horror. The dog's tail was thumping merrily on the floor and Remus - desperately trying not to laugh – failed dismally and fell right out of his chair. 

"FURTHERMORE, LUCIUS, IF YOU REALLY WANT TO GET PERSONAL - AT LEAST WHEN I WAS IN SCHOOL, I MADE MY REPUTATION FOR SCHOLARSHIP AND NOT FOR BANGING LIKE A SHITHOUSE DOOR!" 

Emily cursed.

The hall exploded with laughter and shouts of doomsaying. Albus choked on his tea, "Oh… dear." 

The crisp sound of shoes on stone echoed into the hall, and each step marked the reduction in volume. Utter silence reigned as Lucius Malfoy - impeccably attired in a deep green wool frock coat, snowy-white silk shirt with a green cravat, and green-embroidered black silk waistcoat - appeared in the doorway. A vein throbbed in one temple, the muscles of his jaw bunched and his color was far from the usual aristocratic pureblood pallor. 

"Well. Good morning to you, Emily," he smiled.

Emily returned with a smile of her own, "Lucius, good morning. Lovely day."

"Indeed. Indeed. You seem in good voice as well." The man was absolutely cheery!

"Why, thank you, Lucius. It was a delight for me to be graced with your dulcet tones over my breakfast."

Tucking his swagger stick under one arm, Lucius Malfoy executed a courtly bow and purred, "Jusqu'à une autre heure, ma chère jeune dame, et alors moi vous enseignerons la leçon ce que vous devriez avoir appris."

Hermione and many other young ladies – and more than a few young men - resolved to study French. 

Emily rose and gave Lucius a deep curtsy, "Mon plaisir et honneur, monsieur, pour rencontrer l'enthousiasme votre enseignement." 

"Until then, my dear." Lucius made another leg and exited the hall.

~

Lucius to Emily: "Until another time, my dear young lady, and then I will teach to you the lesson which you should have learned."

Emily to Lucius: "My delight and honor, sir, to meet your teaching with enthusiasm."


	15. Like Cats and Dogs: Chapter 15

Dear Readers:

This chapter was longer, but I have chopped it and will be tweaking it until I am satisfied. More later this week

Albus Dumbledore has been channeled for your reading pleasure by Vardya.

I hope that you enjoy, and please let me know what you think.

Sincerely

Chaos

~

Like Cats and Dogs

Chapter 15

~

The day ended with Emily taking her turn at Defense Against the Dark Arts with the fifth year Gryffindors.

The children were spottily educated. Apparently the two best teachers had been Remus Lupin and a Death Eater using Polyjuice to masquerade as Alastor Moody. 

Hermione Granger asked how "it was taught in your day."

"Well, Miss Granger, as I am still breathing, it is still my day." The girl turned a pale shade of beet, but Emily continued. "The position has actually been open at least since I was a first year, possibly a good while before that. The job is cursed, and now nobody wants to take the shot at breaking the curse."

Snape's tail was going a mile a minute, but he said nothing. He'd been… solicitous all day, really. Emily had to explain that what was boomed at excessive volume in the mornings Howlers was just a version of what everyone said at a much lower volume anyway. As for Lucius, well, he was just Lucius – he was madder than hell at her and Missy for not being good little pureblood brides and bearing their first babes before their twentieth birthdays. 

Emily took one look at the lesson plan and gritted her teeth. She taught it the way that Dumbledore wished, but set the children up in pairs to learn blocking, deflecting and shielding. By the time the class ended, the youngsters were sweaty and weak in the knees. 

"How did you get so bloody fast?" Neville Longbottom panted.

"Because I've had to be bloody fast or be bloody sorry that I wasn't, Neville."

The class finished in a thoughtful silence.

"I want you all to work on your shielding before the next class. A good shield will help you save your energy for offense rather than using yourself up in blocking and deflection." She pulled Lavender Brown to her feet and gave her a push to get her started to the door. "Read chapters one through three and bring me examples of when to use deflect and when to use a grounding block. Now go have tea, lots of it, and eat something. Take a nap before dinner if you need, you've used a lot of energy."

Once the room was empty, she lowered herself slowly into the chair behind the desk. 

"Cerridwen's Cauldron! How in hell do you keep it up, sir? I've been this tired after a week in the Andes and it's only Tuesday!"

~

Lucius, finally freed from his meeting of interminable length and indeterminate purpose – something about textbooks for Muggle studies - came sweeping into the entry hall just in time to see Roderick Goyle and Clarence Crabbe scuttling up the stairs from the dungeons.

"Fucking mad. The girl is just… I mean even if she is a Mayborne, her mother was a Deslauriers!"

"What did you expect? That Mayborne line's always been tetchy. It's all that hot blood, I tell you. Better that they outcross that girl with some solid, cooler-headed stock."

Ah, breeding, bloodlines and matchmaking. For the pureblooded families it was an obsession that approached that of Quidditch. As a Mayborne, though, the line of inheritance ran exclusively through the females. Meridy Mayborne was Emily's great-aunt, Emily was the daughter of Meridy's nephew Phillip and Jacinthe Deslauriers.

Lucius had nothing against the Maybornes, but That Girl's disdain for the proper duties of her sex was flagrant even for that nest of oddballs. Emily made no pretense of seeking a proper match – as the traditions of her line decreed.  The Mayborne heir was by tradition free to make a match of her own choosing – That Girl had spurned even this. Even when her parents disinherited her, it meant little. The fortune and estates resided with Meridy who – along with her mad husband – simply stated that the Emily was still heir and left her be.

Even worse, Artemisia had rejected the match arranged for her in order to remain with Emily. Topping it all off, Lucius could do nothing – Artemisia was the LeStrange heir, and her grandmother LeStrange refused to force the issue. 

Pureblood girls of good family left their maidenhood – guarded by chastity charms -in their marriage beds, bore two or three heirs and were generally free to do as they pleased once the children entered school. It was purely infuriating that both Emily and Artemisia were squandering the future of pureblooded wizards, and nobody seemed to see it! There would have been time for gallivanting about after their duties had been done!

Instead, she and Artemisia were mercenaries - hired wands consorting with nefarious wizards and the most cunning of lowborns and Mudbloods. 

Lucius' mouth flattened into a grim line. Time to teach the lesson and hope that this time it would take. He'd not underestimate her again. 

Cloak swirling, Lucius brushed by the hulking Crabbe and Goyle, descending into the dungeons, his temper darker with every step. 

He'd have words for Severus about the girl, too. Oh, to be a fly on the wall for that little confrontation! His friend's temper was terrible and his methods… could be very interesting to watch. 

If Severus came back, that is. The man's family…! 

The Lord had summoned them, but Severus had not come. Voldemort said it was as if there was nothing to summon – as if the Mark was not there or that Severus was too far away to feel it. Lucius had relayed that someone else was teaching Severus' classes. Both he and his Lord agreed that for Severus to be called away at all now that things were happening meant only a catastrophe – which one of the Snapes was that catastrophe was anyone's guess. The Department of Mysteries was a Witches Weekly gossip column compared to that clan. 

Lucius reached the door to Severus' office and heard the voices raised within. The volume had to be considerable; the oak of the door was four inches thick.

The door flew open and two men came flying out, passing Lucius without a glance and heading quickly for the stairs. 

He stepped into the doorway and looked in. 

"Hello, Lucius. What's the matter? Someone sticking pins in your doll again?"

~

Some people are born to bastardy and some have bastardy thrust upon them, but it was Emily's firm belief that there was no bigger bastard in the world that her she-mate's father. He acquired bastardy, accumulated it and wore it like crown jewels. He was a bigot, a lecher, a man who treated his whims as law and law as whim. 

"L'heure est venue, mon joli moineau." The courtly bow and malicious smile were just perfect, the voice enough to melt the thighs and resolve of men and women alike. Or boys and girls – Lucius liked his 'toys' young.

With a roll of her eyes, she shot back, "Lucius, The only cure for you is a visit to Doctor Guillotine. What must I do to put you out of my misery?" 

~

Severus had once heard a curious expression from an American warlock.

"The shit's about to hit the fan."

Not really understanding what anyone might be doing hurling excrement at a lady's fan, Severus had asked for clarification. The fan in question was a Muggle ventilation device consisting of canted blades on an axle spinning at high velocity and powered by electricity. He and the warlock – who had never actually witnessed shit hitting the fan – borrowed (broke in to) the wind tunnel in the engineering school of a Muggle university and engaged the device with square yard of fresh manure and a small catapult.

The results were completely disgusting, but rather impressive. It was easy to see the reason for the earthy but apt metaphor. Once the shit hit the fan, everything in that tunnel was coated with it to a greater or lesser degree.

It might be difficult so assign appellations to the two people in front of him right now, but the shit was about to hit the fan in a spectacular fashion. Emily had been forced to deal with some truly appalling behavior and Severus had given the roughest side of his feline tongue to a few parents who thought they could abuse a professor over their spawn's misbehavior. 

Emily, however headstrong and thick-skinned she liked to think herself, was still young enough that the words hurt. By the time Crabbe and Goyle came in the door, she was angry enough to pull out the stays of her temper and let fly. She tied them up with their own words and whipped them sharply with her anger, sending them out the door with everything but a kick in the rump. The last pair to accost her were Gryffindors, and she let them have it from the second they walked in the door, quoting extensively from the Howlers. Then she added that - since they seemed to find the services of her kind so repugnant -she had taken the liberty of forwarding their views to Reginald MacGuffin himself for whatever action that worthy gentleman deemed appropriate. 

They went out the door as if catapulted. 

Severus had hoped for a chance to soothe her temper. Sitting in her lap this morning had provoked some agitated stroking that seemed to ease her and he – altruistically, of course - wanted to see if it would work again. It helped that her lap was comfortable, too. 

When Lucius Malfoy appeared in the doorway with arrogance on full blast, Severus cursed. Lucius had vented now and then about his daughter and her she-mate – and once Severus would have agreed with him – but the grudge was approaching epic proportions. Emily got the drop on Lucius the last time that they crossed wands and the pale pureblood had been itching for a rematch ever since.

Their little exchange this morning had been Lucius slapping Emily in the face and Emily spitting in Lucius' eye – courtly etiquette and flawless French aside.

Both were spoiling for a fight and they were by Thor going to have one.

He tried to trip Lucius. He tried to trip Emily. He bit ankles. He batted at wands.

_Stop this at once! Both of you! Goddamnit, Lucius, you're letting a schoolgirl push your buttons! Emily…your temper, hold that temper, girl!_

"- you harlot! How dare you speak to me that way!"

"Oh stow it, Lucius. Moral outrage only works when one, in fact, has morals! And furthermore, if you have any to say about me and my arrangements with Missy – which are no more your business than your patronage of whorehouses is mine –"

"You impudent bitch! Your willful self-indulgence is squandering not one but two legacies that are thousands of years -"

"Spare me the bloodstock lecture, Lucius! I refuse to be defined by my uterus! As for Missy, she can't even function with a male –"

"Others have made the sacrifice before her! An understanding mate – "

"She has one. Me!"

"Your flouting of our ways and traditions knows no limits, does it? First you go skipping around the world when you should be at home, and now you presume to teach! You mix the best of pure blood with the lowliest of –"

"Say it, Lucius! Say it and see what it gets you! You might not like the way I teach this class and that is fine by me, you haven't liked anything I've done since I was fifteen, but Inanna help you if you call my students –"

"- Mongrels, Muggle-lovers and Mudbloods!"

Severus made a last ditch effort to stand down the cyclone and made a bad mistake – he turned his back to Lucius. Strong hands snatched him into the air and held him by the scruff hard enough to bruise. 

"Pamiu, no! Lucius, you put him down or I swear…" 

Severus felt… something. It teased the tips of his whiskers like a feather. It was something familiar, naggingly so, and made him think of starlight on snow. In the moment that he had to feel it, Lucius threw him in the wardrobe and slammed the door, leaving Severus tangled among his spare robes. Hurling himself at the door he yowled like the air-raid siren to which Emily had so rudely compared him.

The words came through the keyhole and filled him with dread.

"Now you listen to me, you Sapphic strumpet…"

"_Heimlichtus_!"

With the _basso profundo_ roar that followed Emily's shout, Severus knew that only an act of the Gods or Albus Dumbledore could stop the mayhem that was about to ensue.

~

It was as if every organ in every church and cathedral in Britain had vacated their lower registers simultaneously. Ron Weasley inelegantly called it the burp of a troll gorged on ale and Fizzing Whizbees - and it belched Lucius Malfoy up the stairs and spat him out onto the stones of the hall to lie in a heap of dark wool and disheveled blond hair.

Students and faculty stood stunned as the wizard picked himself up from the floor, his face set in a masque of stony wrath. Stalking to the staircase, he carefully set his wand on the stairs. With a flourish, he whipped the cloak from his shoulders, giving a brisk shake before laying it over the balustrade. Removing the skin-tight black leather gloves, he tucked them in the pocket of his cloak. The green wool coat was hung from the stone finial, and the green cravat tucked neatly into the pocket along with the starched and pressed collar. 

Steady footfalls echoed up the dungeon staircase as Lucius unbuttoned the first three onyx buttons on his shirt.  He undid the cufflinks, rolling his sleeves past the elbow before he turned and picked up his wand.

Clad in dark grey trousers, waistcoat and shirtsleeves, the wizard stalked to the stairs leading into the dungeons and glared down. "You sparky little bitch, don't presume to be stroppy with me!"

The faculty and some of the parents began herding the children out by main force, others ran for Dumbledore's office. A few stayed to watch, avid to see Lucius get his swelled head deflated or the Akkie taken down a rung or two.

"Lucius, tell me what to do, threaten me, or spout out the pureblood bullshite one more time and I'll beat your aristocratic arse black, blue and Slytherin green!"

Lucius pointed his wand down the staircase and a blast of light went flying, darting back, he moved nimbly out of the way of a series of hexes skimming the floor at ankle height.

The battle was begun.

~

Auror David Sotherland peered around the corner very carefully. The two were keeping well clear of students, but some of those hexes and curses being flung about were bloody dangerous. Malfoy was bad enough on his own, but the Acquisitor had a few nasty tricks up her sleeve as well. She had his grudging admiration for going wand to wand with Malfoy, though – if she could handle that, why not become an Auror instead of a hired wand? 

Creeping along the hall, he could hear faint echoes of the fight. Both combatants were very quiet, moving with stealth and cunning as they fought a guerilla duel. 

There was a back-and-forth blast of hexing in the cloister and a yelp from the Akkie, followed by a curse from Malfoy and muttered '_finite' _from both parties. Malfoy had experience, but the woman was fast and agile. She'd actually climbed down the ivy on the walls and gone in through a window to come up underneath Malfoy. To his credit, the dark wizard held off a barrage of nuisance spells and hit the girl with one that lifted her off her feet by the back of her trousers. 

The return volley had included a goosing hex that widened Malfoy's eyes.

There were some perks to this job. Seeing Lucius Malfoy – the arrogant dandy – being kept on his toes by a woman young enough to be his child was one of them.

A door banged against stone and a formation of red fireballs went streaking by. Thin bolts of blue volleyed the other way. David crept closer, now able to hear the muttered invective of the combatants.

Wand out, he entered the staircase and stood on the landing, one flight went up and the other down. Which way? He took a step and a loose flagstone grated under him. Light flashed above and below.

_Oh shi-_

~

Emily looked at her wand. How in Frigga's name had that happened? She'd sent a spell to root her opponent in place, not to turn him into a potted palm! From Lucius' mutters, the effect was not one that he had intended, either.

"Non-combatant down!" Emily called. "Cease fire?"

"Agreed." Lucius called back.

Emily kept her wand drawn, just in case. Creeping up to the plant in the decorative pot – trust Lucius to stick in a Greek revival urn, the fop! – she made sure that the spell could be reversed. It was very disconcerting to see a tree with eyes, wand clutched in a branch. 

"Sorry. I'll fix you up. There's a potion for this kind of thing – when two spells make the effect of a third. Just sit – "

"Time's up!" A purple orb streaked for her head and she deflected it into the stone wall. 

"Look, must run. I'll be back to put you right the minute I'm done kicking his sorry arse. Back soon!"

Emily went streaking down the spiraling stairs as fast and as quietly as she could, keeping out of Lucius' line of sight until she reached a sally port. Whatever one thought of Master Filch, he was an excellent caretaker, the oak and iron shutter lifted silently of oiled hinges.

The drop was short and Emily rolled into a crouch, waiting for Lucius.

~

Minerva McGonagall was seriously considering retirement. 

Emily Mayborne had run by her classroom at speed, tossing scattershot Impedimentia over her shoulder. 

Lucius Malfoy had blown by in hot pursuit, firing some spells that Minerva would wash his mouth out with laundry soap for daring to utter in her vicinity. 

When she caught them both, they were in for a dressing-down that would leave them in their socks. Lucius was an arrogant bully and Emily could be a stubborn hothead, but this was beyond the pale! Dueling in the halls was bad enough between students, but between a professor and a parent, not to mention a Governor?

Minerva leaned against the wall, using a reflection charm to peer around the corner. There was a strange snarling sound, somewhere close by but she couldn't spot…

A bloodcurdling scream shook the halls, and in the infirmary Poppy Pomfrey reached for a headache powder.

~

"Ah, Narcissa. Good evening." Albus smiled at the blonde head in the candelabra on his desk. "Sorry it took me so long to answer your call, but I've an incident here. What do you require?"  
  


"So sorry to call you away, Headmaster," she smiled, "but I was wondering if you had seen Lucius? He was supposed to be meeting me for dinner."

Oh… my.

"Well actually. Narcissa, Lucius is the incident. He and Emily Mayborne are attempting to do very bad things to each other."

By the time the last word left his mouth, Narcissa Malfoy was standing on his desk and flicking candle wax from her robes.

"I'm afraid that Lucius' Howler this morning rather got the young woman's wind up and her return volley scorched his pride…" His voice tapered off as the woman drew her wand.

"Where are they?"  
  


"Now, that is the problem…"  
  


~

The good thing about the top of Gryffindor tower, Hermione thought, that that you had a grand view for miles around.

The bad thing was that it was so high!

Yet here she was with her omniculars, straddling a stone griffon - holding on so tight that her knees hurt and her thighs cramped - looking about for an evil dark wizard and a… a someone she had no reason to feel like she wanted to claw to shreds, that's what. 

Rem – Professor Lupin was an adult. He was twenty YEARS older than she was. He was also, not so incidentally, a werewolf. It was very silly to feel what she was feeling and considering a werewolf's sense of smell, a little embarrassing as well. 

She liked him, even when finding out he was a werewolf made her cry into her pillow. First Gilderoy Fuckwit and now a…

… a nice, gentle, kind man who got a little odd – not to mention four-footed and furry - around the full moon?  

Why couldn't she just like somebody normal? A nice Hufflepuff. An engaging Ravenclaw. Even Slytherins could be somewhat charming when not being utter gits. Maybe Percy? Or another girl?

"Hey, Hermione! See anything?" Harry's voice jerked her back to reality and she made a guilty sweep with her omniculars. 

"Nnn… got something!" Lucius Malfoy was no good at sneaking in the physical aspect. He might be adept at sleight-of-hand and misdirection, but when it came to really sneaking he was just bloody awful. "They're headed for the pitch and…"

There were golden brown eyes frowning into the omniculars.

"And what, Hermione?" Ron called from his lookout.

"And the lot of you are in very deep trouble."

Hermione lowered her omniculars. 

_Whoops._

Remus Lupin, on broomback and looking as if he'd been rousted from a shower let fly with a dressing down. "Harry, Ron, get back down into the tower. Fred, George, I'm surprised… no, actually I'm not, but you ought to have better sense. Alicia, Katie, Angelina – back in you go. The rest of you – what the hell were you thinking? It's not like you haven't already broken records for the loss of House points. What are you doing, racing Slytherin for the bottom?"

By the time the last word left his lips, every Gryffindor who had been hanging out of the windows, sitting on ledges or hanging from the crenellations was back in the tower.

That golden glare fixed on her once more, "And I'm very surprised at you, Hermione. You're a prefect! And… where is your broom?" 

As long as she'd been taking the very basic flying courses, she was still very uneasy on a broom. Even with Harry, Ron, Fred and George coaching her she was worse than Neville. 

"Someone brought me up." Harry, but Remus was angry enough without knowing that. 

With an annoyed growl he scooted back on the broom, "Come on then, I'll bring you down."

Hermione's legs tightened on the griffon, fear sucking the spit out of her mouth.

For a moment, hurt flashed across Remus' face. "Surely you know that you have nothing to fear from me, Hermione?"

"It… it's not that. Not that you're… a werewolf." She felt her face heat, "I'm afraid of heights." Oh, what a stupid fear for a witch to have!

Remus' mouth dropped into an 'O' of surprise. "Ah. All right. Look, just swing a leg over, I'll come up close and you can slide on…"

Hermione then made a very bad mistake – she looked down. 

The Gryffindor common room was on the seventh floor of Gryffindor Tower, the dormitories and baths rising for eight stories above that, with the top of the tower being seventeen stories up. Here she was, sitting on the back of a stone creature, hanging out into nothing but air.

She brought her gaze up again

A bird came winging in to perch on the griffon's ear and regard her with a quizzical tilt of its head.

Tearing her eyes off the bird, Hermione's stomach lurched and she was suddenly very, very dizzy. 

"Hermione?"

Her hands clenched the griffon's stone mane. She was sliding the griffon was sliding and she was going to fall all the way down and it was a long way down and damn it to hell how had she let Harry drop her off here and …

"Hermione." Lupin was now to one side of her, thigh to thigh. She was hyperventilating, silver-rimmed black spots whirled through her vision and her body felt slick and chilled with sweat.

"Hermione. Look at me, not at the ground. Come on, turn your head and look at me. Silly kitten," he cajoled as she carefully turned her head, "you didn't think about how to get down before you climbed up, now did you?" He slipped an arm around her waist. "Come on, I'm going to lift you right over, pull your leg over, that's right. I won't let you fall, you'd land in the rose bushes and Filch would just have a fit…"

Suddenly his arm tightened and there was nothing underneath her but air and she _screamed_…!

The next thing she knew there was a babble of voices and something warm and wet slobbering all over her face. Her arms here locked tight around someone's torso and she shook so hard that her teeth actually chattered, with that someone's (oh, dear God, it had to be R- Professor Lupin!) arm cradling her shoulders.

"- she never told me she was afraid of heights!"

"- never told anyone –"

"- she's always been stiff on her broom –"

"- some just never get the trick of it, that's all we thought it was –"

"Severus keeps common potions in the large cabinet in his office, Harry. Bring me up the calming draught, and stay clear of the combat!"

Opening her eyes, she was once again assaulted by Toffee-tongue. The Border Collie familiar gave a bark and wagged his tail so hard the air hummed with its passage. Ron, Harry, Ginny and half of Gryffindor made a circle around them, all talking at once with Harry and Ron looking utterly guilt-stricken. 

"Be right back, Hermione." Harry turned and ran.

And Hermione was sitting between Remus Lupin's thighs, her arms around his lean torso, her head tucked under his chin – with her former room-mates giving her what they thought to be a surreptitious thumbs-up.

Hermione desperately hoped that it was possible to die of embarrassment. 

~

Lucius faced the little bitch down.

Wand to wand they stood on the grass of the pitch, magic so thick in the air that one might scrape it with a fingernail.

Emily Mayborne had been a worthy opponent. Inventive. Tenacious. Skilled. 

And now that he had her on open ground, he would teach her a lesson that she would never forget. 

~

Harry almost did not go into the office. The howling and thumping from the cabinet made him think 'boggart.'

But Hermione needed that potion – mostly because of him. 

Harry felt that he should have known – as much as he and the others practiced with her, Hermione never seemed to become comfortable on a broom. He had never thought that it might be afraid of heights instead of the broom.

"MEE OWWWT! NOWWWWW! MEE OWWWT!"

If that was a boggart in there, it was doing a great impression of Professor Mayborne's familiar. Taking a long handled spoon from the wall, Harry lifted the latch, hoping that his _Riddikulus_ would be up to snuff. 

The latch snicked and the door slammed open under the impact of a large amount of furious feline.

With tail corkscrewed, ears awry, and fur bristling in every direction, the huge black cat landed in the middle of the floor and gave Harry an evil eye that would have done Snape proud. 

"Well, you howl like a banshee, but you're no boggart." Harry sighed and nearly went limp from relief, afraid that if it had been a boggart that his deepest fears would have come leaping out of that door. What he wouldn't give to be afraid of heights or spiders! Harry turned to the cabinet, looking for the calming draught – ah, there it was.

"Yow! FFFFT!"

The bloody cat was stalking _him_! Back hunched up and tail like a bottlebrush, it came right for Harry in a stiff-legged skitter.

"Hey! Hey! I'm just getting a potion for a friend! Professor Lupin sent me for a calming draught!" He fumbled for his wand and nearly went over backwards when the cat lunged for him. "Hermione had a bad scare and she needs this! I'd be more worried that Malfoy's going to pound your witch into the pitch than –"

The beast had a temper-fit that was almost Snapeish, but Harry thought that the cat chucked in some words that Snape would never dare to utter within a mile of Hogwarts. With a last virulent hiss – that Harry thought he nearly understood – the cat turned and left so fast that there was almost a hole in the air.

Carefully shutting the cupboard, Harry shook his head. "Weird, weird cat." 

~

Narcissa Malfoy exited Albus Dumbledore's office by jumping out of the window.

With that august gentlewizard's broom.

At least it had a fair turn of speed – it was no Firebolt, but a perfectly serviceable, vintage Silver Star.

"Damn it, Lucius, don't you hurt that girl." And that girl had better not render any significant damage to Lucius. Narcissa expected to get years of wear out of her occasionally straying – but much-loved – husband. 

Her occasionally straying, much-loved, meddling, tetchy husband who was obviously suffering from a case of testosterone poisoning and a sore ego that had affected his judgment.  Not that Emily was much better for her retaliation in like kind with that 'banging like a shithouse door' comment, but she did have a better excuse – young, under duress and the recipient of a record-breaking amount of Howlers.

It was all the talk, really. No one had ever expected them to be opened in front of the whole school and the names of the senders were already gossip fodder, as was Emily's heartwarming response.

"LEAVE MY MATE OUT OF THIS, YOU CHEAP-SHOT, SEWER-MOUTHED, POTATO-BRAINED BAG OF PISS AND WIND! IF YOU THINK FOR ONE MINUTE I'LL BE COWED BY FOUL LANGUAGE, THUGGISH MANNERS AND THREATS, YOU'D BEST THINK AGAIN! IF YOU HAVE ANY ISSUE WITH THE WAY I TEACH THIS CLASS, THEN HAUL YOUR ARSE DOWN HERE AND SAY SO!"

Emily's response to Lucius had come by way off gossip as well, and oh how Lucius must have been stinging afterward. Pureblood boys were free to do as they pleased until marriage and Lucius frequently had  - something that pleased Narcissa no end on her wedding night. Not that she had no experience at all, but those chastity charms were very specifically tied to one's maidenhead – Lucius went to great lengths before they said their vows to prove that there were other ways to pleasure. 

Young witches nowadays disdained the power offered to them by convention and custom in marriage for a different freedom and all the uncertainties that went with it. In the important families is was becoming more common for girls to protest matches, even using their legal rights to avoid marriage entirely – as Emily and Artemisia had done. 

Lucius dearly loved his little girl, but like all Malfoy men, he regarded himself the only ram in the flock and could be incredibly jealous of his females. The match arranged for Artemisia had been to a biddable boy, the son of one of Lucius' business partners. Emily was both female and interloper; not only had she refused to grant Lucius what he saw as his prerogative, she then had the cheek to abscond with his daughter! This was a grave insult to his manhood and Lucius – to say the very least – did not take it at all well. 

Maybornes chose their own consorts, it had been so from before the Romans, possibly even before the Celts. Emily had chosen Artemisia, and had stuck by that decision against a great deal of virulent opposition. 

Emily was a sweet child, but let her see even a hint of bullying and she exploded like a Howler herself. It had become reflex, automatic and unthinking, much like Severus' temper. 

And where was Severus? 

That was a question for another time, the answers she had in hand were in no way satisfactory. 

Narcissa looped high, getting out of the way of any hexes that might be deflected skyward, and made a wide circle over the pitch.

There. A head of white-blond and a head of sparrow-brown, arms extended, wands pointing at each other.

Narcissa made a nearly vertical dive, flattening out just before she hit the pitch and flew between her husband and daughter-out-law – yanking wands from hands and nearly taking arms from sockets. The shouts of surprise and dismay were very satisfying. 

The braking charm on the Silver Star was a little rough, but at least he didn't go head over heels off the broom. She glided back to the pair, staying on the broom as the high-heels would sink into the grass of the pitch.

"C'est comment vous tous les deux vous comportez?" she spat. "Bagarre comme les gangsters communs dans une ruelle? Où est votre raisonnement? Où sont vos façons? Je n'ai jamais été ainsi embarrassé dans ma vie!"

Lucius, enrobing himself in righteous arrogance, pointed to Emily - who made a very rude finger gesture in return. "Mon épouse, cette matière est entre cette fille et moi. Elle a insulté..."

Narcissa tightened her lips to a thin line and reminded herself that no woman in the history of the world ever won an argument by being a shrieking shrew. 

"La matière a cessé d'être privée en la minute où vous lui avez envoyé ce Hurleur, Lucius! Mon Dieu! Là où a votre esprit allé que vous ouvriez un tel conflit l'en public, et excédent la table de petit déjeuner!" The embarrassment of that little misadventure was quite stinging. Family disputes should be kept _within_ the family. What had Lucius been thinking? Or with what head had he been doing his thinking? Males! "Vous êtes-vous attendus à ce qu'elle avale une telle insulte? Je ne lui donnerais rien mais le dédaigne l'a eue non répondue." Emily might seem quiet and gentle, but the hot blood surged below the surface. Men frequently deluded themselves as to the nature of woman, but no more than women deluded themselves. "Vous étiez un imbécile pour penser que vous alliez combattre avec un moineau, ainsi ne vous plaignez pas si le faucon vous ratissait pendant que vous méritiez!"

A falcon, yes, that was an apt characterization. A bird might fly to your glove, submit to the hood and jesses, but that did not change her nature. 

And there was another factor to consider:

"Et les réactions de Meridy Mayborne et son mari de fou pourraient prendre si vous nuisez à leur héritière êtes des horreurs que je ne souhaite pas contemple!" What that formidable woman might do was anyone's guess, the Maybornes were many things, but predictable was not one of them.

Lucius was abashed and Narcissa was very pleased. He could count the times she had raised her voice to him on the fingers of one hand - outside of childbirth, that is – and she hoped that was enough to get the man thinking!

Turning her attention to Emily - who despite everything had the delicate manners to pretend she had heard not a word spoken between husband and wife – Narcissa moderated her tone further. She wanted the falcon to come to the glove.

"Et vous, Emily, êtes-vous un enfant à combattre comme ceci? Vous devriez écouter et voir si les mots font dessiner le mérite avant vous votre bâton, ma fille." The stubborn girl's brows drew together in a frown and Narcissa stopped the outburst with an upraised finger _a la_ McGonagall. "Je ne dis pas que vous devriez ne répondez pas à l'insulte, pour ignorer de telles choses invite simplement plus, mais ce que vous avez fait aujourd'hui vous a porté au niveau de ceux que vous dédaignez. Servez-vous de votre trempe ainsi que vos cerveaux - ou votre trempe se servira de vous."

"Mais-!"

This time Narcissa raised her voice."Subsistance silencieuse, petite fille idiote! Lucius ne devrait  jamais n'aussi publiquement vous avoir insulté comme l'avez, mais que vous remboursiez son accès grossier l'en public - cependant accidentellement - des marques vous autant un imbécile que lui!"

Emily undertook a close study of the ground. Very good. 

"Sans utilisation d'un Impardonnable je ne pourrais pas pouvoir en mesure de forcer non plus de vous à comme l'autre, mais j'aurai une trêve de vous toutes les deux. Et je veux dire pour l'avoir maintenant. 

Mains d'agrafe, toutes les deux vous."

From their expressions they would rather stick their hands in a midden heap. Stubborn fools!

Raised voiced echoed across the lawns, heading toward the pitch, an odd happy jingling threaded through them.

"I would do it now, were I you," she looked from her husband to her daughter's mate, "and make this appear to be voluntary – which I can assure you both that it is not. The headmaster is not likely to be pleased with either one of you. It would be a good idea to mitigate some of his wrath." 

With expressions of deep loathing, the pair circled each other looking more likely to spit in each other's face than to clasp hands. Finally Emily's small hand extended, disappearing into Lucius', and they managed to shake hands without vomiting on one another or attempting to break fingers.

It was a poor start, but at this point Narcissa would take what start she could. 

~

Albus and Minerva strode to the pitch side by side. 

"You have something in mind, Albus?"

"I do."

Minerva nodded and then cocked her head as a jingling sound made itself known. "Severus, coming this way at speed. He's really adapted quite well to the form, almost as if it was second nature to him."

Unfortunately, Severus made a most stubborn cat. There was still no sign that he would relent and release Sirius Black from his canine form. Stubborn boy!

Slowing to a walk, Albus and Minerva reached the pitch in time to see Lucius and Emily shake hands before Narcissa.

And in time to see the obstreperous pair wipe their hands on their trouser legs in utter disgust the minute the lady's back was turned. 

_The more things change, the more they stay the same._ Albus sighed. 

A streak of black darted between his feet, bell chiming merrily as Severus joined the festivities with a yowling, hissing fit directed at both Lucius and Emily.

Feline form seemed to have disinhibited him somewhat, though with Severus' past, Albus could not say if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Severus had disappeared into his shell and his dungeons many years ago and had stayed there to a greater degree ever since. Even Albus only caught occasional glimpses of the person he remembered Severus to be, and was honored by the confidence each time. 

Minerva took up a guard position, scowling full force at the miscreants, her lips invisible with disapproval. Both her former students shifted their feet, no doubt remembering her detentions. Narcissa radiated satisfaction as she tucked a pair of wands under her arm and moved off to the side, making room for the headmaster and his deputy.

"What is the meaning of this? Emily? Lucius?" Albus glanced from one to the other.

Emily winced, cheeks turning white and then pink. "I… oh, bloody hell." With a deep breath she met Albus' gaze. "No excuses, Headmaster. I lost my temper with a private dispute taken public."

As blunt as ever, she'd never attempted to evade responsibility even as a student. Albus was gratified that she had retained that trait. 

Lucius looked, however, as if he were swallowing live toads and trying to pretend that he was not. His face and voice were stiff as he directed his gaze at a point just over Albus' left shoulder. "I apologise for my part in the… disruption."

Spitting loudly, Severus rowled angrily at Emily's feet.

"Ah. Professor Mayborne, I must ask that you please control your familiar." Severus in a spitting rage was not anything he would normally inflict upon a novice, but right now there was no choice. "Lucius? What role did you have in this 'disruption'?"

"Miss- Professor Mayborne and I have a private dispute, which has been – unfortunately – aired in public." Lucius' gaze never met his, his voice never straying from the marginally polite aloof tone. "It concerns the conduct of Professor Mayborne's… private affairs."

Emily was hissing under her breath at Severus and shook a finger at him. Severus' tail bushed and pointed skyward as he expressed outrage at vituperative length.

"It does, indeed, as your have made abundantly clear to anyone with hearing." Lucius at least had the grace to flush at that. As had most of the parents who had come to complain about Emily's return volley. "For what reason did you feel it appropriate to bring Professor Mayborne's conduct of her private life to light in an all-too-public brawl?"

Lucius' jaw clenched and he cut his eyes at Emily, who now had a struggling, spitting Severus by the scruff of his neck.

Emily glared back Lucius, but spoke in a civil tone. "He strongly objects to my mixing of the Houses, as well as to other matters which he obviously thought suitable for consumption over breakfast."

Albus felt his eyebrows draw into a scowl. In all his years he'd never been as scandalized as by the events of the morning. "Yes, I am afraid that there is little doubt in anyone's mind as to your opinions of each other, especially after this morning's events. However, I have words for both of you, and Lucius, you will hear them first. Professor Mayborne, will you please silence that cat!"

"Sorry, sir, once his temper starts working… Pamiu! Does the word 'paperweight' have any meaning for you?" Oddly enough, Severus quieted with a green-eyed furious glare for Emily as she tucked him under one arm.

Turning his gaze back to Lucius, Albus eyed the pale man coldly. "Lucius, while I obviously have no influence over the behavior of the members of this school's Board of Governors, I can express my feelings about the influence such behavior will have over students who may witness it. As such, I would like you to consider that your behavior very closely resembles that of the younger strata of this student body. Have you anything to say in your own defense?"

 Lucius winced, his grey-eyes gaze dropping to the grass between his feet – if looks could kill, the turf would have been bristling with the hilts of daggers. "No, Headmaster, nothing."

"And as an adult and a parent, Lucius, what in your opinion would be a fair punishment for a student who would engage in similar behavior?"

Lucius took deep breath in, let a deep breath out before he replied. "Detention. Laborious detention. Cauldron scrubbing, probably, as I know that Severus keeps a room full of such for the purpose."

"Agreed. However, the Potions classroom is the domain of Professor Mayborne for the time being, and as she is also a miscreant here she will not mete out your punishment." That would be a certain recipe for disaster. Letting these two loose in a room full of sharp objects would be safer. "I think a writing detention will be suitable, and the writing will be at the level of the behavior you have displayed. I think 1,000 times writing, 'I am not twelve years old, although my behavior would seem to indicate otherwise' would be quite fitting. Are we in agreement, Lucius? Will you serve this punishment as an example to the students who have witnessed this execrable behavior this afternoon?"

Minerva snorted in derision and Albus gave her a quelling glance. He well knew her opinion of Lucius Malfoy. 

With a face distinctly pink and words that sounded nearly strangled, Lucius replied, "Yes, sir."

Albus nodded, "Very well. Professor Mayborne."

"Sir." Emily stood pink-faced from shame and with Severus under one arm, but otherwise at attention. 

"You are aware that I hold my faculty to certain standards with regard to their behavior?"

"Yes, headmaster. I am aware."

She met his gaze and Albus nearly sighed – she was waiting for him to do his worst. If he had known that putting the Prudissero on her would have resulted in this much resentment and wariness, he would have found another way.

"And has this incident demonstrated the upholding of those standards, Professor Mayborne?"

"No, Headmaster, demonstrably not." Her voice was flat enough to serve tea upon. 

Emily had some lessons to learn as well as some that she very much needed to unlearn. 

From dealing with Severus, Albus had learned some very applicable lessons and one of them applied now. Emily was waiting for a kick that was not coming. From the behavior of the wizarding world in general to Acquisitors, to the parents of both her and her mate standing in opposition to their lifepaths, Emily was becoming alienated from the larger world. She had become quick to see insult, fast to retaliate, taking no counsel other than that of her peers, and was deeply mistrustful of 'outsiders.'

He had seen this before and the consequences had been horrific. 

It did not, however, let her off the hook for some very serious offenses.

"Would you say that your behavior is at the level of a twelve-year-old child's in this case, Professor Mayborne? As Lucius' has been described?"

"I would not contest that assessment, sir."

"Ah. Then we are in agreement. And perhaps you will also agree that you should share his punishment." He paused, continuing at Emily's stiff nod. "The two of you will meet in Professor McGonagall's classroom after this evening's meal; she will supervise you. I would also request that you acknowledge, to her, your appreciation of the sacrifice of her time."

Emily bowed, "Professor, I apologize that my actions have cost you time. I will endeavour to keep my temper in the future."

Lucius gave a bare nod of his head, face stony. "Madam, my regrets that I have cost you your evening hours. I will keep my private disputes with Professor Mayborne private."

Minerva's lips tightened still further, nodding at both Lucius and Emily.

"I trust that neither of you will engage in a repetition of this incident. After tonight, nothing further will be said about it. And now, if there is nothing else, good afternoon." Albus gathered Minerva by eye alone and took himself out of the pitch.

~

Emily set Severus on his feet and he shook his head furiously. What was that girl's fetish for his ears, damn it?

_The two of you are just not to be believed! Damn it, girl, you are supposed to be an Acquisitor! Where is that training that promotes critical thinking? A cool head? You kept your temper through the entire day, and lost it over _this_? He was pushing your buttons to provoke this kind of response, you ninny! Do you know how bloody lucky you are not to be walking around under Imperius or any of the dozens of really nasty curses he knows? You might well have been killed, permanently injured or worse had this gone on for much longer! Don't you even open your mouth at me, Ravenclaw chick! You're a gape-mouthed hatchling compared to me and have less sense than one still in the egg! Once I am back in proper form, I will undertake your education myself. You will sit for your Masters credential if I have to whore every favor owed me to manage it!_

If only that had been in English. It was some of his best improvisation to date, and effective as well, to judge from Emily's consternation. 

With a curt flick of his tail, he turned to Lucius and felt his gaze narrow. 

_And you. I ought to box your ears until your head rings like the bells of Westminster! What is wrong with you? Other than an overdose of privilege that has swelled that gorgeous head of yours beyond reason. You deluded fool! What did you hope to accomplish? So there is someone in this world whom you cannot mislead, who is immune to your charm – and it's about bloody time you got an arse-kicking, but I want to be the one to deliver it! Idiot! You're as gape-mouthed in some ways as the Ravenclaw chick! Call it wizarding pride or pure-blood privilege and you swallow it whole and wiggling! You…_

Evil impulse struck and there was only one way to express his trenchant disgust. 

Turning his back, Severus lifted his tail and pissed all over Lucius' mirror-shined shoes.

~

**Translations:**

By the grace of old textbooks, Word 2000 grammar plug-ins, and translation programs. It has been mumble-teen years since I last spoke French for any reason at all.

**In Snape's office:**

**Lucius to Emily:** The hour is come, my pretty sparrow.

**On the Quidditch Pitch **

**Narcissa to Lucius and Emily:** This is how you both behave? Brawling like common thugs in an alley? Where is your reasoning? Where are your manners? I have never been so embarrassed in my life!

**Lucius to Narcissa:** My wife, this matter is between That Girl and me. She has insulted...

**Narcissa to Lucius:** The matter ceased to be private the minute you sent her that Howler, Lucius! My God! Where has your mind gone for you to open such a dispute in public, and over the breakfast table! Did you expect her to swallow such an insult? I would give her nothing but disdain had she not responded. You were a fool to think that you were going to fight with a sparrow, so do not complain if the falcon raked you as deserved! 

And the reactions of Meridy Mayborne and her madman husband might take should you harm their heiress are horrors that I do not wish to contemplate!

**Narcissa to Emily:** And you, Emily, are you a child to fight like this? You should listen and see if the words have merit before you draw your wand, my daughter. I am not saying that you should fail to answer insult, to ignore such things simply invites more, but what you have done today has taken you to the level of those whom you scorn. Make use of your temper together with your brains, or your temper will make use of you.

**Emily to Narcissa:** But-!

**Narcissa to Emily:** Keep silent, you silly little girl! Lucius should never have insulted you as publicly as he did, but for you to repay his rude outburst in public - however accidentally - makes you as much a fool as he!

**Narcissa to Emily and Lucius:** Without the use of an Unforgivable I might not be able of forcing either of you to like the other, but I will have a truce from you both. And I mean to have it now. Clasp hands, both of you.


	16. Like Cats and Dogs: Chapter 16

Sorry that this has taken so long. More as soon as it comes. 

Like Cats and Dogs

Chapter 16

~

Remus tracked Emily down as she was lifting a biting spell that had set itself into a wall. 

Like his fellow offender, Lucius Malfoy was about the castle - with a restored Auror Sotherland at his elbow - removing and dispersing misfired hexes. Emily had Severus at her heels, the scent of his fury only starting to dissipate. 

"Well. That was educational." Actually the whole day had been more educational than he really wanted to contemplate. Life was complicated enough, but new problems were sprouting everywhere. 

Emily sighed but said nothing as the bite-spell wisped into nothingness with a fading growl.

"Are you all right?" He could tell nothing at all from her scent; it was jumbled and turbulent despite her apparent calm.

"Lucius didn't get anything through that I couldn't handle. I'm fine."

Severus snorted and Remus agreed. Very much not 'fine.'

"I mean _you_. Are you all right?" 

Emily took a deep breath and turned away. "No. I have to say that, no, I am not all right. I would rather be anywhere on the green earth than here. I want to go back to my own home, my own bed, my own mate and my own kind. As soon as I can find a suitable replacement, I will be leaving as fast as I possibly can."

_Her 'kind.' Oh, not so thick-skinned as we thought, are we?_

"Emmy…" This was bad. Remus had this under his nose once before and had not known it for what it was and by the time he had figured it out, it was far too little, far too late. 

_He was never alone anymore. Everywhere Severus went, he was in a knot of green, black and silver. Severus was with his pack, and lord help anyone who got in their way. _

_The only time Remus figured he might have a chance was in the evenings, when Severus went to the pitch to abuse bludgers, trying to get his swing back in time for the Cup. So Remus waited near the equipment room for the Slytherin Beater to stow the gear before disappearing once more into his lair._

_"Severus? I… if you have a moment, I'd like…"_

_"I have nothing to say to you, nor do I have anything that I want to hear from you. Just stay away from me, Lupin, far away – and your keepers, as well."_

"I don't belong here. I don't _want_ to belong here. This is not my place." She bit the words short and then looked down at Severus as he butted her calf, "I'm sorry, I can't. You and Toffee can do as you please, but I…"

Catching her as she brushed by him, Remus exerted his strength to stop her. "Emmy, just promise me – nothing in haste, please. Make no big decisions when you are this out of sorts."

"Yow." Severus was figure-eighting her ankles and occasionally glaring at Remus. 

"See? Everyone agrees."

Emily rubbed at the back of her neck. "Fine, no decisions bigger than the dosage of headache powder."

"Look, I'll make our excuses at dinner. You're tired and I don't care to be punched in the nose with everyone's state of mind right now." He could tickle the pear and bespeak a tray for them both. "Go ease your headache and I'll meet you in your- in Severus' rooms. I find myself in need of advice from a proud young witch, if you can give it."

A hesitation and Emily nodded. "I'll leave the wards down."

~

Sirius felt the hand tangle in his ruff and opened one eye. Hermione was still deeply asleep with her familiar, Crookshanks, sleeping next to her head on the pillow. 

Nice girl, Hermione. Poor kid. Some Muggle-borns never got used to a broom, but he'd never actually met anyone who was afraid of heights. 

From the look of her when Remus brought her in… well, they'd have to really work to get her up to a level where she could pass the flying portion of her OWLS. It wouldn't have much of an effect if she didn't pass, but it would bring down her overall score – and Sirius had a feeling that Hermione's swot pride would not countenance a lower grade.

Sirius huffed a little. The scent of her terror-sweat still clung to her; nothing else had the cold stink of that particular emotion - it was like winter carrion. Something nagged at the back of his mind, a memory that went with the smell, but nothing came immediately to the fore. Sirius dismissed it.

Still, it was funny to see Remus get all flustered and jumpy last night when Hermione had cornered him. Her questions might have been all business, but her scent was something else. 

Hermione had a crush. 

Not a little-girl moonbeams-and-magic crush either, but a full-bore adolescent hormonal overdrive crush that was like having one's nose stroked with rose petals. 

Over _Remus!_  His little Moony was all grown up. Too bad Sirius wasn't in human form to tease him about it. He'd tease Hermione, too, just to see her blush, just the way he had once teased Lily Evans.

Still, Sirius had been deeply touched by the children's concern, even if he was very unsure how to reciprocate. He was also very grateful that Ron did not harbor much of a grudge over Sirius breaking his leg. 

The door opened a crack and Sirius raised his head to see Harry peering into the room. The boy had been absolutely guilt-stricken over not knowing about Hermione's phobia and had been 'what if-ing' all night. He was convinced that he had put his friend in horrible danger even with Remus and Ron pointing out that Hermione had kept her fear very well concealed. The boy was still traumatized from the events of the Tri-Wizard Tournament and well he might be! That had been enough to shake an Auror, and no mistake.

Sirius let his tail loose and it thumped the bed softly. He could play the friendly, silly dog when it made Harry grin so.

Harry smiled and whispered, "You must be the happiest bloody dog in the world, Toffee."

No need to correct him on that assumption, Harry had enough to handle without knowing his godfather was an utter, irredeemable prat. With tongue lolling out of a canine grin, he thumped his tail harder, causing his godson to come over and hold the bloody thing down. 

"Shh! You'll wake 'Mione." Harry did not seem disposed to leave, instead settling on the edge of the bed and continuing to pet Sirius. Lonely-smell was also quite distinct - small and chilly – and so Sirius ramped up the Loveable Goddamned Border Collie act. "Such a happy dog. You're so lucky to have someone like Remus. Do you know that? He's lucky to have you. I think he's been very lonely for a long time." There was a slight hitch in Harry's voice as he lowered his head to whisper in Sirius' ear. "He's afraid that people are going to get hurt just by being around him, that maybe just being his friend is enough to get someone killed or worse."

_Oh, Harry, you're not talking about Remus, are you?_

As if Harry could hear his thought, the boy buried his face in Sirius' fur and wept in a quiet, controlled way that told Sirius not enough and too much. That's it, he was going down to Snape and he would…

Would what? Go to Snape, show throat and be turned back into Wizards' Most Wanted - Sirius Black, murderer and escapee? 

Yes, that would really help Harry, now wouldn't it? 

There were times when it was easier to be a dog, but this was not one of them.

~

Emily picked at her dinner and finally pushed it aside less than half-eaten, as she waited for Remus to finish his dinner and Snape to finish his wash.

It was post-fight crash and - for a moment - she thought about going down to the Hog's Head and having a few whiskeys. With a shake of her head, she dismissed the thought – the last thing she needed to add alcohol to her already volatile state. Aside from that, she had a Dark Arts class of Ravenclaw third-years first thing in the morning, followed by the Advanced students before lunch and the Slytherin/Ravenclaw seventh-years afterward. At least the day ended with a comparatively easy class of Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw second-years

The only thing good about this day was that the headache powder was working.

"I don't suppose you'd be interested in desert? One of the house-elves was rather insistent that I take –" Remus did an uncanny imitation of house-elf speech pattern, " 'the lemon tart to Emmy Mayborne, is Miss' favorite!' "

Emily shrugged, "I'm poor company, Remus. Sorry."

"Want to talk about it?" He was cutting a prodigious slice of the lemon tart. "You really lost it with Malfoy."

Emily got up from the table and walked to the sofa. "Nothing much to tell." She shook her head and flopped back against the cushions of the sofa. "We have a history, Lucius and I. But you said you needed some advice?"

Remus floated her a plate with a slice of tart and a fork. "Nice way of avoiding the subject, Emmy, but I do. Rather urgently."

"Whatever I can do." The tart was as good as she remembered. It tasted much better without swallowing her pride along with it.

"The first part is about a young witch with a problem – she's got a paralyzing fear of heights. I pulled her off the top of Gryffindor and she fainted." Remus rested his elbows on his knees, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Now she's practical sort, but as proud as sin, and might not talk even to her friends over something she felt might diminish her in their eyes." Emily arched an eyebrow only to have Remus arch one right back. "To say the least, she's mortally embarrassed."

Emily considered. "I'd say that she'd need someone to teach her who was not her friend – an impartial third party. Someone whose good opinion she does not need to consider. It would also be good to find out just how far up she can go before her phobia kicks in, that way you can push her higher in increments."

Remus nodded and raked a hand through his silvered hair. "That's along the lines of what I was thinking, but there is one other matter in which I need… I find myself…" With a deep breath and with his eyes fixed on the wall behind her, spilled the situation. "It's hard to mistake sexual desire for anything else, in fact it's impossible. I thought I was just catching the tail end of her crush for someone else, but just before the calming draught put her under…" 

Emily was fascinated to see a werewolf blush and had to swallow a laugh at his discomfiture. 

Remus growled. "You try it sometime, Miss Smell-So-Sweet. It's like being beaten with flower petals. Like being drowned in silk. There's no fear of me in her, or in you – I can't even start to tell you what that says to the wolf."

He didn't need to tell her. The quick flicker of his eyes over her body, the color gilding his cheekbones brought a deep, pleasant twinge from within.

_Bloody hell, Missy! What are you doing putting these ideas in my head? _

Speaking over the thought, Emily asked, "How old is this girl?"

Remus mumbled, "Fifth year."

Raising an eyebrow, Emily smiled, "Ah, fifteen. As I remember fifteen, she's probably bubbling with hormones. If she hasn't yet run the course, I'd bet that she's tickling her fancy and thinking about it."

Snape jumped off the bookcase and went to hide behind the reading chair. Remus made some inarticulate gargle and buried his scarlet face in his hands.

"What? Oh… you pureblood men! You can't stand to hear a woman actually talk about sex? I'm tripping over double standards everywhere today!" She eyed the blushing man and grinned wickedly. "Sex. Intercourse." She honeyed the words, letting them slip off her tongue and into the air. "Animal congress. Making the Beast with Two Backs. Screwing. Banging. Boffing. Bonking. Bumping fuzzies. Doing the horizontal mambo. Having a good night's ride. In other words – fucking!"

The last word was something short of an aria and echoed from the stonework.

"MEROWR!" Snape leaped the back of the chair and shook a paw at her.

"Since I can't speak feline, I'll assume that was either a detention or fifty points from Ravenclaw and you can kiss my arse." Emily leant down to look him right in the eyes. How dare he! Snape of all people! The bloody man had his hands down her knickers one cold night, kissed her brain into a knot of firing ganglia, and NOW he decided to play the nanny?  "And you've no room to talk, either, not with your schoolboy reputation. Dormitory sheets, remember?"

Snape laid his ears back and Remus choked on laughter.

Emily turned to him and Remus raised his hands in surrender. "Modern witch. Sorry, I know. I just don't want to think about my students… I know that I was fifteen once, too, but it makes me feel like a pervert."

"Remus, by the time I was fifteen Missy and I were lovers. We were left to figure it out for ourselves. We had no guidance other than a few books and pamphlets." Emily shook her head, " It's better to talk about it, and do it realistically and honestly. _This_ is the action, and _that_ is the immediate consequence, while _th_ose are the long-term consequences."

"I don't even know what information she has, Emily. Frankly, I just want to talk her out of this and see her with a nice young… ah… person." The man practically writhed in embarrassment. "I'm not comfortable with being… thought about… like that… and she's so young!"

"Remus, she's fifteen, biologically mature, and not stupid. It's very likely that you are the Unattainable Male – the safe crush. If she seems approachable on the subject, talk to her about it." The man made a gargling sound and paled. "Just tell her that you are flattered – and don't deny that you are flattered, you old wolf – but that your honor and commitment to the school does not permit and such like that."

Remus nodded. "That she will understand. She's got her head on right, that one."

Emily continued, "And if she still feels the same way a year from now, it's most likely genuine feeling and you should accede – with due discretion and the agreement of your mate - to her wishes."

~

Severus yowled at the top of his lungs.

_What do you mean 'accede to her wishes!' Have you gone insane? She's a student! _

"Look - you and I have issues to discuss. " Emily bent so that her lips were brushing his ear. "You stopped. I was willing and maybe you were right to stop then for the reasons you gave me. It does not change the fact that I did not change my mind about it, or you for the rest of the year. Even when you gave me that completely uncalled-for detention."

_The reasons I gave were perfectly valid, and of course I was right about them! You were popping with hormones, under the influence of Old magic. I could have done as I pleased with you, and never forget it!_

Then the rest of what she said hit him. 

_What do you mean you didn't change your mind? _

And Severus found himself hit right between the eyes with his own double standard. He had been regretting not taking what had been so willingly and enticingly offered, and for all of this time she had… been… thought… and…

She…!

And she didn't…!

What's more, she…!

And that detention had indeed been called for! Impertinent, wretched girl! He should have spanked her with her own wand that very night!

The Werewolf was staring at him. "Emily, I don't believe I've ever seen a cat splutter before - and I know that I have never seen Severus do it."

"Fine. About time someone knocked him off his high horse," Emily sniffed, "he was suffering from altitude sickness."

His WHAT? 

_You… you… I cannot believe that you would advocate… and… what high horse is that, Miss? It's very disappointing to have you attack me when I cannot speak in my own defense, and unworthy of you. If you will recall, Professor Pretty, you could barely stand after we hexed Peeves and…_

Something clicked.

The brushing sensation in his whiskers this afternoon when Lucius had snatched him up had the same feeling as the power they had raised between them in their passion that night. If Lucius had truly attempted to harm him, there would have been a big scorch mark and possibly a small crater where Lucius had been standing.

"That's it, we're going to Filch." 

He evaded Emily's reach with a swat and hiss, leaping to the top of the bookcases. Not until he figured a few things out was Severus inclined to go anywhere. 

"Fine, but you are going to see Filch," she shook a finger at him, "just as soon as I can manage it. You looked like someone hit you in the head with a hammer!"

~

Minerva sat lightly on a round, puffy cushion as she regarded the pair before her. Lucius Malfoy – still the rich, spoiled, ambitious, brilliant brat he had been twenty-four years ago. Emily Mayborne – the mild and unprepossessing veneer covering a stubborn core, explosive temper and a streak of absolute ruthlessness.

And both of them between twenty-three and forty-two had a lot of growing up to do.  Good lord, what had they been thinking? Had they been thinking or had things degenerated so badly after Emily and Artemisia left school that the pair of them were now simply bent on one another's destruction? Some of those spells flung about during the duel were designed to disable an opponent – a good few of them permanently.

Minerva held out her hands, "Your wands."

Emily handed hers over with the same flat look that she'd had on her face at the pitch. Lucius seemed about to protest, but after a glance at Emily handed his over as well.

_"Prioriomnes incantatum."_

The spells cast by both of them were laid out plainly. She ought to wash _both_ their mouths out with the strongest soap she could find. 

Both had the grace to look embarrassed.

"If you two were still students, both your Houses would have lost fifty points for each of these spells. You would both be on Restriction, if not expelled outright. Your punishment is to be treated as the children you evidently still are."

Both studied the floor, saying nothing – which was quite well with Minerva. There was nothing they could say. Even Lucius with his talent for wiggling out from under the axe couldn't put a good face on this one. How appalled he must be at being balked by a willful child – and even more at losing control of himself over it. Emily seemed remorseful over her conduct, but only in relation to the person who had triggered it.

"You know your punishment, so pick up the parchment and get to it - and the writing must be legible, Lucius." The blonde man glowered but said nothing. "Neither of you may leave until the other finishes, so whomever finishes first must sit quietly until the other of you is done."

The two of them looked at the indicated desk and then at each other with expressions that clearly said they'd rather sit in a pile of manure. 

Minerva's patience gave out. "Sit!" 

With great care and stony countenance, they sat, each trying to behave in a way that said that they were completely alone. Heads bent to the task and there was a scratch of quill on parchment. 

Minerva shifted again, repressing a sigh. Between Severus and Sirius, Emily and Lucius, she was starting to wonder if anyone every truly grew up. 

Lucius and Emily had been out for blood from Emily's sixth year. Artemisia had refused the marriage arranged for her and told her parents that she was a lesbian, and that Emily Mayborne was her lover. Lucius had tried everything on the brighter side of legal to force his daughter to comply, but the girl's maternal grandmother had stepped in and forced Lucius to back off. That did not stop him from attacking what he saw as the weakest link in the chain – Emily. Emily had come roaring right back at him and this had enraged him all the more. Once Emily's parents – the girl's mother was a from a cadet branch of the Hainaults – were in the fray, things had become very ugly, very quickly. And through it all Emily simply became more and more stubborn.

Severus had once mentioned that the girl was one of the most headstrong individuals with whom he'd ever been at odds. Minerva remembered the incident with the warming potion and the foolery that followed. It had been hilarious to watch a tight-arsed Severus trying to ride herd on the determined Ravenclaw – and to watch the determined Ravenclaw frustrate the tight-arsed Potions Master. 

An unseemly giggle was firmly quashed. Severus, having been much acquainted with venery, vice, and debauchery was ever on the hunt for students straying down those paths. He knew every snogging spot, hidey-hole, and out-of-the-way place where a student might engage in such behavior – after all, he'd had plenty of experience during his own school days. It was also unfortunate that Severus – who at times seemed to have been raised either in a bawdy house or by rabid Presbyterians – could be paranoid about those he imagined were tripping merrily down the path to damnation. 

Emily Mayborne had been one such – and the resulting foolery had been epic on both sides.

Lucius was another story. The arrogant pureblood had been so since his first year – he broke rules not in order to gain attention, but for the sheer delight of escaping punishment. Prejudiced, judgmental, and haughty, Lucius wanted things his way and would undertake any course of action to have them so.  He was brilliant as well as devious and ambitious.

A little more brilliance than ambition and Lucius could have been a Ravenclaw, his marks had been that good.

Another thought occurred to Minerva – with a little more ambition than brilliance, Emily might have been Slytherin.

Right on the heels of that thought came another – Lucius Malfoy and Emily Mayborne did not hate each other because they were nothing alike; they hated each other because they were only a few degrees off being exactly alike.

~

Lucius was brooding. 

Not that he would ever admit it, of course, men never did – but brooding it was nonetheless. 

Narcissa smiled. He even managed to look good doing it. Sitting in front of the fire in his darkened study, slouched in that Awful Chair, shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, his hair loose and brows screwed into a scowl. 

Poor darling. His pride had taken a terrible beating today. Lucius had made an ass of himself – and hence of  her  - starting with that Howler and ending with detention. There was a lot to be forgiven – but she would never admit it – and thus he could not bring it up without making himself look in the wrong. 

All of which he understood, and it was chafing him like starched knickers.

"I told the House Elves not to disturb you." Lucius snapped, eyes never wavering from his inspection of the flames.

There was a gentle art to the soothing of her husband's considerable and occasionally stormy ego; Narcissa had learned it over the course of over two decades of marriage. She stepped from the shadows, the white silk of her robe and negligee swirling around her. She had borne two children, but had done her best to keep her body in top condition – she was no longer the teen Quidditch queen, but she had filled out in a way that she did not find unpleasant. 

"They did not need to tell me, I heard you when you came stomping in." With that light teasing, she came to rest her hand on the marble of the mantel, letting the fire give all the illumination she needed. The silk was thin enough that he could pick out the shadow of her body within it.

Whatever he was about to say changed as he took in her state of undress and her loose hair, "I'm sorry, I did not mean to wake you."

Walking to him, she pushed his legs apart and sank to her knees between them, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest. The silk of his shirt was warm under her cheek and she could hear the beat of his heart quicken as he threaded his fingers through her hair.

Was it so odd that she had fallen in love with her husband? That she wanted his touch more now than she had when she was a new bride? Narcissa was under no illusions that many of her peers loved, much less liked or lusted for their mates. Nor was she living with any illusions that Lucius never shared anyone else's bed – he did, and she would wager that she knew every time it had happened.

But he never rubbed her nose in it, was never flagrant, never brought his toys home and never was less than perfect to her in all ways. In a way, her heart ached for Lucius; the girls he chose were young and pretty, like a garden in their variety of prettiness, but the boys were all the same - black hair, dark eyes, pale skin. 

From the nursery, Narcissa had known that she would be given in marriage, and so had been careful with her heart. Poor Lucius, her white tiger, had lost his and never suspected until it was too late.

Lucius growled and fell silent, his fingertips rubbing her scalp. Narcissa loosened a button on his shirt, then another before slipping her fingers in to rest on his chest.  She smiled as she felt his heartbeat quicken, "I wasn't asleep."


End file.
